


Blacklight

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Romance, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 72,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a Lycan, she a Vampyre. Sworn enemies from birth, yet drawn to each other by fate. Can they protect the precious pacification pact both their Elders worked hard to get? Or will in-fighting be the downfall of the pack and of the coven?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Glance

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Nothing specific, but characters are taken from up to season 8.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

To him, in those precious few days after the pacification pact had been agreed upon, London had never looked so fine. The grey of the stone and metal of the buildings stood out proudly, the black of the tarmac glistening with the rain, the smell of the exhaust fumes from the traffic all the sweeter because he could enjoy it without having to look over his shoulder, without having to check it was safe to go out, without having to worry about anything. There were those, of course, who were sceptical, who were taking bets on how long it would be before everything blew up. The volcanic eruption, if or when it happened, would be so much worse than before, raining death and terror down upon everything, Vampyre, Lycan and human. He didn't want that. Not that he was a particularly peace-loving creature – in fact, he was well known for his temper and lack of control of it – but they had been at war for so long, peace was a nice change of pace. And it allowed him to see things clearly for once, allowed him to fall in love with his first passion again: London. The city fed and nourished him, made him laugh and cry. He knew every small nuance of its character, all the right places to go to for all the right things, and a few of the wrong ones. His lips curled slightly at the thought of everything he could now indulge in, things he had forsaken for so long for the sake war. He was certain his pack would be doing the same, as would their recent enemy; gorging themselves on every guilty pleasure that was available. His smile grew more feral as those guilty pleasures ran through his mind. Being immortal did have its advantages, and that night he intended on making full use of it.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been out at night, other than to hunt. In fact, he wasn't sure he knew anything other than the hunt now, but he was determined to try and put it behind him. He wanted to fed on the sweet nectar of human life without worry of reprisals, and without worrying about the Vampyres being there. The rules of the pact had been very specific; those areas were for Lycans, those for Vampyres. Wandering into a restricted part of London would make the seams of the fragile treaty come undone in a second, and he didn't want that. He had killed more than his fair share of Vampyres, and had watched more than his fair share of Lycans die, in their four and a half century war. He had only become a Lycan a few decades before that, and so had known almost nothing but war, yet he was surprised what had lingered in his memories. A right turn here, a left there. His instincts guided him to his favourite place, unchanged by the centuries. Humans who knew of the night creatures gathered there to offer themselves, in the hopes of being turned. It rarely happened.

Boyd remembered the last time it had happened. There had been a lull in the war as the humans fought each other, and he had gone there for a moment of indulgence. And there she had been, waiting patiently, looking for all the world as if she was waiting for him alone. The moment he saw her, his blood had begun to pound in his ears, his fangs had started to grow, and every fibre of his being strained towards her. As first, Boyd had been content to just feed from her, a little blood to start with before he took some flesh from the fattier parts of her body. But after his starter, he had looked up into her face, framed by dark, lustrous hair, her eyes dark with desire, and he had lost control. Dragging her to a more secluded, shady corner, he had taken her without hesitation, without any real thought to what he was doing, but she offered herself so willingly, and at the moment of release, Boyd bit her, low on her neck, at the junction with her shoulder. She had gripped him harder as she cried out, lost in the moment. Afterwards, when she went limp, Boyd had left her there, clothes ripped, body bloodied, and walked away, feeling sated for the first time in over a century.

The next night, she turned up at their den, and Boyd knew the only way she could have found it was because she was now one of them. A Lycan. He learnt her name was Frankie, and they continued a fun thing for a while, but Boyd eventually tired of her company, and his duties as hunting pack leader kept him away for longer and longer periods. Thomas, the Lycan Elder, had gladly sanctioned the nullification of their union at Boyd's request; he had never agreed with Frankie being turned in the first place but could do nothing about it once it had happened. He knew Boyd hadn't done it on purpose but in a way, that only made the situation worse. Frankie, of course, had flown into a feral rage when she heard the decision and had to be restrained for almost twelve months before she calmed down, and when she had been released, Boyd avoided her whenever possible. It wasn't easy; Frankie had subtle stalking down to a fine art. He wasn't sure what he preferred; subtlety or outright craziness. At the thought of Linda, Boyd shuddered. Suddenly his appetite for everything had disappeared, memories of his last indulgence session haunting all his senses. He swallowed, tasting ashes in his mouth. His moment of weakness had given him centuries' worth of trouble and he vowed the next time he was in a similar situation, he would control himself. He had, but Linda had ended up being turned by a young, inexperienced Lycan and, once she reached the den, had latched herself to Boyd like a limpet to a rock.

Boyd's good mood evaporated as the rain began to fall harder and he growled loudly. "Why are you in such a bad mood?" a voice asked.

"It's raining."

Spencer laughed as he came to stand alongside Boyd. "It's always raining. This is London. The war's over, no more fighting, time for fun. What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Boyd ground out, not looking at the young man beside him.

Spencer just shrugged. "Suit yourself. Me and a few others are going to The Dungeon. Want to come? Felix said there's a good chance virgin will be on the menu tonight." He grinned wickedly.

As Boyd turned to reply, his eyes swept the opposite side of the street and he froze. There was nothing unusual about the scene, just two women talking, both with blond hair, similar striking features, could have been mother and daughter. But Boyd knew who they were; Vampyres. His warrior's instincts began to scream loudly at him but he ignored them. The war was over. Besides, there was something about the older woman that made other parts of him stir.

Shaking his head, Boyd's face paled as he realised what he had just been thinking. The woman was a Vampyre, the enemy. That side of the street was theirs, the only place in London where their territories came into such close contact, and he had forgotten about that when he had left the den that night, heading towards his favourite haunt. He had been lusting after the enemy. What was wrong with him?

Spencer had noticed his change in body language, but luckily thought it was barely restrained aggression. "Easy, Boyd," he said quietly, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "They're just talking. Got as much right to be out as we have." Even as he spoke the words, Spencer didn't believe them himself but he had to try. The war was over.

"I know, I know," Boyd replied through gritted teeth. "But still, over four hundred years of hostility isn't something that can be forgotten over night."

"They probably feel the same way about us, so why don't we get out of here before we create a situation?" Spencer suggested.

Boyd looked at him and grinned. "Virgin, eh? Sounds good to me."

They both turned and walked away, Boyd fighting the urge to look behind him because he knew, without really knowing, that he was being watched.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

To her, the signing of the pacification pact meant the ending of one era and the beginning of another, stepping into uncharted territory. For the past five centuries, her role in the coven had been clear, precise, and she enjoyed knowing exactly where she stood within the hierarchy. But now things had changed and she found herself considering her future with uncertainty, which was why she had left the safety of the Hall, seeking comfort in the familiarity of London with its gleaming rain-stained surfaces and sweet fume-smelling air. Of course, she had always managed to enjoy the city even when the war was raging at its peak, but from talking to the others, she understood that this time of new peace was proving difficult for them, the transition from fighting being one of the most difficult steps most of them had ever had to take. For them, they were able to appreciate the city in a new light, happy to not have to look over their shoulders ever minute to make sure they were safe. She still thought, though, like many did, that a return to violence was inevitable and only a matter of time. The Lycans were animals and couldn't be trusted, it was just that simple. Of course, she didn't condone war or aggression on any level, which was another reason she despised the enemy so much. She shook her head. No, not the enemy any more. Lycans. She shuddered at the mere thought of them. Peace with creatures such as them was a practical impossibility but if Ralf, the Vampyre Elder, believed in it, then she would try to as well.

She did admit to herself, though, that London seemed much different in the peacetime. The laughter and tears were clearer, the voices in the air much louder, and the scents... She shuddered again, this time in pleasure. When the war raged, she had only allowed herself to indulge on occasion, when her cravings became too much for her to control. She may not have been a fighter, but her role in the coven was important nonetheless and she didn't have time for any kind of frivolity. But now...now it was a completely different game. In fact, Ralf had encouraged her to go out and explore, to *experience* everything there was for an immortal to experience in London, and she found herself tingling in anticipation of what she might find. A young human man passed her, smiling at her in appreciation, and she resisted the urge to follow him and drain him, even though her corner teeth were aching to sink themselves into the tender flesh of his neck. Even though she was old when she had been turned, she looked younger and that had nothing to do now being an immortal. She had always looked after herself and that meant she always looked good, even now. But she resisted the urge to follow the human; there was only one place she wanted to go that evening, the place where humans offered themselves freely to the night creatures in the hopes of being turned. It rarely happened, of course, but as long as they offered no resistance, the Vampyres were happy to feed from them.

Grace remembered the last time it had happened. There had been a lull in the war as the humans fought each other, and she had gone there in a moment of extreme need. But the places were almost deserted, the humans too busy killing each other to bother about the needs of immortals and Grace had been about to leave when he turned up. Tall, dark and handsome, she couldn't resist, couldn't help herself. She was content to just feed from his wrist but there was something about his smouldering dark eyes that drew her to him, and before she knew it, she had led him to a secluded, shady corner and put her back to the wall, inviting him to take her. She had never felt so wanton before but she didn't care. And he didn't need to be asked twice, lifting her easily so she could wrap her legs around his waist, sliding into her willing body, and as she reached her climax, Grace pushed his head roughly to one side and bit down on his neck hard, drinking as much blood as she could take. She wasn't trying to turn him; in fact, she was trying to kill him. The feelings she was experiencing overwhelmed her and afterwards, as they lay collapsed on the floor, Grace could barely remember what had happened. She saw his body, saw the blood and marks, and decided it was a shame, nothing more.

The next night, he appeared at the gates of the Hall, demanding to speak to her. Ralf had questioned Grace thoroughly before agreeing to let him in. After all, the only way he could have found out about the Hall was because he was now one of them. A Vampyre. A continuing relationship wasn't something Grace had in mind, but Harry was quite forceful about it and she soon succumbed to his charms. It didn't last long. Her job as the coven's exponent kept her working longer than ever, with more difficult cases from other covens around the world being referred to her. Grace had a natural gift for reading peoples' intentions, for helping her fellow Vampyres cope with living an immortal life, or even with killing Lycans. She listened and she advised, and Ralf came to rely on her more and more as the decades and centuries rolled by. Harry's downfall was his jealousy and after a particularly violent argument, Grace pleaded with Ralf to sanction a distance order on Harry, which the Elder agreed to readily, sending the other Vampyre to another coven for a century. He had only recently returned to the coven, apparently cured of his obsession with her, but Grace knew differently, she could see it in his eyes. She knew it was only a matter of time before he decided to cause trouble somehow.

Grace sighed, her good mood evaporating like steam from a vent. Now she didn't want to go anywhere to have fun, she didn't even want to go home. All she wanted was to get away from everyone and everything for a while. She wasn't that lucky.

"I thought you were going to the Meeting Room," a voice said.

"I was," Grace replied flatly.

"What made you change your mind?"

She looked at the young woman standing beside her. "What do you want?"

The tone was harsher than Grace intended, and Mel held her hands up in defence. "Sorry, I was only asking."

"I know," Grace replied, sighing again.

"I don't understand. The war is over, no more wasting our energy in fighting a pack of mangy animals," Mel said. "It's time for celebrating and overindulging. Why, then, do you look so downcast?"

"It's nothing," Grace told her.

"Well if it's nothing, come to the Meeting Room with me and a couple of the others and we'll see if we can find you a handsome young human to drain. That should put a smile on your face." Mel smiled. "I know it always does with me."

Grace started to look away, ready to give an answer, when her eyes locked onto a figure on the other side of the street. There was nothing unusual about the scene, just two men talking, both tall and powerful built, one older with salt and pepper hair, one younger with dark skin. But Grace knew who they were; Lycans. She felt her inbred hostilities start to stir, but there was something about the older one that made heat stir in the pit of her stomach.

Shaking her head, Grace's already pale face whitened even more as she realised what she had just been thinking. The man was a Lycan, the enemy, a mangy animal. That side of the street was theirs, the only place in London where their territories came into such close contact. Grace knew that, and while she avoided Lycans at all costs, she had deliberately taken that route. And now she was lusting after the enemy. What was wrong with her?

Luckily, Mel didn't notice the change Grace's posture or expression. "So, what do you say, Grace? The Meeting Room?" The younger woman grinned. "We might even be lucky and find a nice young virgin to break in."

The two men turned and walked away, but Grace couldn't tear her eyes away from the older one. "Hmm?" she asked distractedly.

Mel followed her gaze. "Who are you looking at?"

"No one," Grace replied as the Lycans disappeared around a corner. "Breaking in a virgin, eh? Sounds good to me."

Mel smiled as they walked off, chatting aimlessly about everything and anything. Grace made all the right noises in all the right places, but she couldn't get her mind off the older Lycan she had just seen. Idly, she wondered if he would be in the same place at the same time the night after.

TBC


	2. Second Thoughts

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd was in a foul mood when he returned to the den, the other Lycans picking up on the vibes and steering well clear of him. Not only had The Dungeon been a huge disappointment – there was no virgin, just a group of middle-aged women who had all seen better days, and a couple of young men who were far more interested in each other than anything else – Frankie had been there as well. Spencer tried to look innocent, as though he hadn't known Boyd's stalker would be present, but the older Lycan wasn't stupid. He knew hew presence had been deliberate planning on his comrade's part. As much as Boyd liked Spencer, he couldn't seem to make the younger Lycan understand that he didn't want any part of Frankie, that he never really had done. It had been, after all, just a bit of fun. Spencer often joked that if that was the case, Boyd could point Frankie in his direction instead. The older Lycan knew such comments were only half made in jest, and though he had tried, Frankie simply hadn't taken the hint.

He growled loudly and started pacing around his room, feeling his frustration and his anger swell his muscles. Quickly, he shed his clothes, not wanting to ruin his suit when he changed. It was a common misconception that Lycans were filthy animals, that they lived underground and had no concept of personal hygiene, a vicious lie spread by the Vampyres to make themselves feel better. Boyd had seen their Hall in the mind of a Vampyre as he killed him. It wasn't that grand at all, with paint flaking off the warped and rotten window frames, wallpaper peeling away as the damp corroded the plaster. It was pathetic and he couldn't understand for the life of him why anyone would choose that life, as some people did. Most of the stories about Vampyres were highly romanticised, most probably because they had been told by Vampyres. Lycans were far too sophisticated to bother about persuading narrow-minded humans which abomination of nature was superior.

Boyd himself was a good example of how Lycans actually were. His wardrobe was full of well-cut suits and shirts, polished shoes and a couple of heavy topcoats, as well as well-pressed slacks and expensive cashmere sweaters. He had dressed himself in one of his better suits that night as it always made him feel good and he wanted to enjoy the first true night of freedom in style. It hadn't happened. Now his anger was so ripe he could feel the change upon him without his permission and for a brief moment he wanted to give into it, but a knock on his door prevented him before anything more than his torso had altered.

*"What?"* he roared.

It wasn't just the fact that The Dungeon had been a huge disappointment, or the fact that Frankie had been there, or even that Linda was still stalking him. No, what had set Boyd's teeth on edge was the Vampyre he had seen, and it wasn't just because he was lusting after her, it was the fact he couldn't stop.

His door opened and one of the last creatures on Earth he wanted to see walked into the room. "Thomas wants to see you," Linda said, staring at Boyd's bare chest with undisguised longing. She was tall for a Lycan, her auburn hair carefully curled and arranged, presumably in an attempt to impress someone, probably him. Needless to say, he wasn't.

"Why?"

"Do you think he told me?" she asked bitingly.

"If he had, I wouldn't bother going," Boyd replied, equally as scathingly.

Linda glared at him. "Do you know what your problem is, Boyd?"

"Yes," he said, pulling a top roughly over his head. "You. Now move."

But she didn't, just continued to fill his doorway with her unwelcome presence. Boyd took several deep breaths to try and calm himself, but upon seeing she wasn't going to get out of his way, growled again and strode forward. He grabbed her upper arms abrasively and threw her with force against the wall of the hall outside. As her back collided with the plaster, Linda laughed, her eyes growing darker with lust.

"Some people might consider this foreplay, Boyd," she told him in a low voice.

Boyd snarled nastily and pulled his hand back as if to strike her, but stopped himself. "If I had my way, you would now be *dead*," he said in a low, menacing voice before striding off. All he hoped now was that Thomas had some good news for him; anything other than the approval to go on a human-hunting mission just wouldn't do.

"Boyd, please, take a seat," Thomas greeted his fellow Lycan when Boyd entered his study.

Boyd bowed and then sat in front of Thomas' desk. "Linda said you wished to speak to me."

Another misconception about the Lycans was their crudeness and discourteous manner. While it was true some Lycans were like that, Boyd also knew more than a few Vampyres were the same. And whenever Boyd found himself in Thomas' presence, he always found that particular idea to be absurd. Thomas was the epitome of good grace and manners. Tall, broad shouldered and muscle, his chocolate coloured eyes always radiated warm and understanding. Well, almost always. Boyd had seen the Elder in a rage a handful of times, and each time even he felt uneasy in his presence.

"Yes, I do," Thomas replied, his voice a rich baritone. "As you are more than well aware, this pacification pact between ourselves and the Vampyres is rather fragile."

*'He's only just starting talking and already I don't like where this is heading,'* Boyd thought sourly. "I am aware of that," he said out loud, his tone respectful.

"Both sides will be seeking any opportunity to restart the war," Thomas continued. "You know this to be true as well. As much as we would like to think the best of our packmates, some simply cannot be trusted. It will be the same with the Vampyres, most will abide by the rules of the pact but some will not."

"There isn't much we can do about that, Thomas," Boyd said. "If Lycans, and Vampyres, want to go against their Elders..."

He smiled. "You mean against me."

Boyd conceded the point with a curt nod. "That is their choice."

Thomas stood and turned to look out of the window, the moonlight glinting off his hair, highlighting the grey over the black. "I'm afraid I cannot, and will not, allow anyone to break this pact. The Vampyres are willing to trust us and I will not betray that trust. Ralf and I have worked too long together, despite being on different sides of the fence, to watch a few rogue individuals destroy what will surely a testimony to both our names, though whether history remembers us with reverence or scorn remains to be seen. Those rogues, Boyd, need to be kept in check. Any shit-stirring incidents between ourselves and the Vampyres must be stopped."

Boyd forced himself to say, "I agree."

Thomas turned and smiled at him, and with that gesture, Boyd felt he had been trapped like a rabbit in a snare. "Good, I'm glad you do. Because I'm putting you in charge of keeping our pack in check."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Me? You cannot be serious."

"Deadly." Thomas' expression had indeed turned stern and Boyd knew that 'yes' was the only answer he would be giving now. "Boyd, we have lived for centuries in war with the other creatures of the night and I am tired of it, as I know many Lycans are. You are a fearsome man in your own right, a strong leader, and while you're not exactly charismatic, Lycans will follow you. Your hunting party was perhaps the most successful this pack had. If our fellow Lycans know that you are monitoring their behaviour, they will think twice about trying to create an incident. Besides..." Thomas smiled again, the gesture transforming his entire expression. "...I know you. You'll enjoy peacetime for a short time and then you will be bored. This will hopefully ensure that doesn't happen."

"I'll need a team," Boyd said in defeat.

"You can choose your own of, say, three. I suggest Spencer as a second."

Boyd nodded. "Anything else?"

"As much as I know you hate paperwork, I want weekly reports on the pack's activities," Thomas replied. "Get someone else not on your team to type and print them out, if you want."

"And when do we start?" Boyd asked.

Thomas smiled, albeit grimly. "Are you doing anything right now?"

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Grace was in high spirits when she returned to the Hall, laughing loudly with Mel and a couple of other Vampyres about what had happened that evening in the Meeting Room, though she wondered if anyone could tell that it was slightly forced. The evening had gone very well, the Meeting Room packed with other Vampyres and willing souls offering themselves as food in the vain hope they would be turned. The chances of it happening were very rare indeed, and quite often Grace cursed her luck that it had been Harry who was one of the 'lucky' ones. But luckily for *her,* he wasn't amongst the crowd that night. Instead, there had been one particular young man who had flattered her outrageously and normally hating that sort of thing, Grace had lapped it up, encouraging him and waiting for the right moment to strike. He told her his name was Joe and while he wasn't conventionally good-looking, there was something oddly familiar about him, which Grace ignored for most of the night. It was only later, when she started to drain him dry, that she realised what it was. A split-second look into his eyes told her: the Lycan from earlier that night. This young man before her could have been his son, if not for the sheer impossibility due to ages. That realisation ruined her night completely, though she didn't let it show. Instead she concentrated on the sounds around her, on the young man's blood now pumping through her own veins, and she felt herself relaxing.

Now, back in the quiet of the Hall and the safety of her own room, Grace allowed the mask to fall away and the frustration come to the surface. He was a mangy animal, for Blood's sake! Uncouth, unwashed...more at home in the sewers than on the surface. Then Grace sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Why was she trying to lie to herself? She had seen the Lycans' den once or twice, when she had been required to drain a Lycan to extract information. There were a couple of Vampyres skilled in that sort of thing, but Grace was the best. Jackie, who was one of those Vampyres and also the second exponent of the coven, often joked that she was surplus to requirements, but Grace knew better. The stress of draining a Lycan was immense; left to do all the work alone, she would have quickly burnt out. Lycans. They were not the mangy animals most Vampyres professed them to be or would like to believe they were. They were actually quite sophisticated, intelligent creatures, and their den was almost a thing of beauty. Grace looked around her own room, looked past the image she *wanted* to see to focus on what was *actually* there. Rotten windows, peeling paint and wallpaper, and a dampness that made her bones ache even though she was technically alive. Not for the first time, the thought crossed her mind, 'What's so great about being a Vampyre?'

But then she thought about her fellow night creatures, the other Vampyres she now called family, and she smiled. They made it worth being an abomination of nature, made it worth living in the draughty, musty-smelling mansion. It wasn't that the Vampyres didn't have the money to engage in DIY, it was just that they were categorically lazy, far more interested in eradicating Lycans in order to prove themselves superior, or indulging in any number of guilty pleasures only available to an immortal.

"When did I become so cynical?" Grace mused quietly to herself. A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Stella said as she hovered in the doorway awkwardly, "But Elder Ralf wants to see you now."

Grace was silent for a moment as she regarded the tall, red-haired, half-English, half-French Vampyre. She was a fairly recent addition to the coven and Grace was reserving judgement on her until she had been with them for a few decades. The young woman seemed sincere enough, but overly eager to please in Grace's opinion, and there was just something about her which the exponent couldn't quite put a finger on.

Instead of letting her turmoil show on her face, she simply smiled. "Thank you, Stella."

The younger Vampyre nodded and almost fled the area, leaving Grace to sigh and wonder. Then, after a few moments, she rose, pulled her silver shawl more closely around her shoulders and head to Ralf's study. The Vampyre Elder was almost the complete opposite of what a leader should be; quiet, reserved, almost shy in his manner, and caring about his coven. But Grace knew that steel underlaid his personality, having seen the results of his wrath on several occasions, and even been on the receiving end of it once or twice. But despite that, she found his company pleasant and enjoyed any excuse to spend time with him. Despite being older, she always found him more like a younger brother, one she could always rely on.

"Ah, Grace, come in," Ralf greeted her warmly, waving her to a chair.

As she entered his room, she took a moment to study him as she always did. Tall and thin, with thinning brown hair and brown eyes, Elder Ralf looked more like he should have been in some kind of uniform rather than the leader of the Vampyres, though whether it was a military or police uniform, or the outfit of a priest, Grace wasn't sure. His mannerisms were gentle yet commanding, as was his presence, and he was a man not to be underestimated.

"Stella said you wanted to see me," she replied, not smiling back.

"Grace, must you always be so formal?" he asked with a shake of his head. "This is a momentous occasion for us, the time for four hundred years we have known peace. You should learn to relax." He smiled again. "Although from what I hear, you certainly did earlier tonight."

She had the good grace to blush slightly, the colour making her skin look even paler. "I'm glad to see that in the place of meetings and tactical planning we have idle gossip."

Ralf laughed. "More like joy that you are enjoying yourself," he told her. "You work far too hard, I've told you that before. What is the point of being immortal...?"

"...If you don't enjoy yourself?" Grace finished for him in slight exasperation. "Yes, I know. Blood knows I know; you've told me often enough."

"And yet you ignore me."

The words were softly spoken, their delivery gentle, but Grace her the underlying threat, the faint tone that made the words an order. "I will try harder in the future," she promised him.

Ralf sighed and leant back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, his dark green shirt parting at the neck to reveal a part of his almost ethereal chest. "What is troubling you, Grace? I know you have always been particularly serious, something I've been trying to cure you of for the past four hundred years, but this is different. Talk to me."

Again a friendly request that sounded like an order and Grace sighed as well. "It's just...the war is over. What need is there for an exponent in the coven now? My main job over the centuries has been to counsel those charged with killing our enemy; what job is there for me now?"

Ralf smiled and leant forwards. "Good. I'm glad that is all that is troubling you."

"What else would it be?" Grace asked frowning

"I thought that perhaps...Harry was the problem. I would understand completely if his return caused you some discomfort."

"As of yet, he has stayed away," Grace replied, her voice flat. "But..."

"You can speak freely, Grace. Please."

"I feel as though it is only a matter of time before he starts to cause trouble," she told him after a moment's hesitation. "I may be wrong..."

"But you aren't usually." Ralf smiled slightly.

"Why was he sent back here, Ralf?"

"With the war over, he served no purpose as hunter in our second coven. As you know, there are fewer Lycans there than here. Andy spoke with me and requested he be transferred back. She didn't say anything else, but I got the feeling Harry had tried to cause trouble there as well. I think she felt if would be better if he were kept under my watchful eye, so to speak."

"I agree with her, but still, his presence does distress me somewhat," Grace admitted.

Ralf leant over and touched the back of her hand briefly. "The moment he starts to harass you, you come to me, alright?"

Grace nodded. "Thank you. Now, what did you wish to see me about?"

He sat up straight, suddenly all business-like. "I wanted to discuss your role in the coven, and it seems I'm not a moment too soon. Believe me when I say that we need you now more than ever. Yes, no more counselling for those called upon to kill, but those warriors and hunters will still need help adjusting to peacetime, and I think you'll find that more challenging. Also we still need you to vet the new arrivals as your ability to understand peoples' intentions is second to none. And that, I think, is the most important thing."

"But, Ralf, we get perhaps one new arrival in a decade, if we're lucky," she protested, then smiled. "Or unlucky, as the case may be."

"True, but I was talking about your ability to read people." He steepled his fingers together, leaning his elbows on the desk. "Grace, most of the Vampyres actually welcomed this pact, but there are a few who are adamantly against it and will do anything to restart the war. I want you to find out who needs watching. Assemble a team together of another three or four Vampyres to help you. I would suggest Jackie be one of them. Instruct your team to monitor the others in the coven - discreetly, of course - and report to you anyone who bears watching. You will then report to me once a week."

Grace processed the information for a moment, then smiled. This promised to be an interesting challenge. "When do you want me to start?"

"What are you doing right now?" Ralf replied, smiling back.

TBC


	3. Third Party

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"Do we get paid?"

Boyd rolled his eyes and then turned to glare at Spencer, who was lounging in the nearest chair. "You have everything you could ever want as it is. Why do you need paying?"

"I might want something different," Spencer replied.

"Take it up with Thomas," was the curt response.

Spencer set his chair down on its four legs. "Ah, no. It's okay. Thanks."

"I'm so glad you decided to be reasonable. Now, any other questions?" Boyd asked, looking around at his team.

Felix held her hand half in the air. "How far does our authority go?"

"That is a very good question," the older Lycan replied. "I think for the moment, we are a...test, to see how well Thomas' idea works, and if a...policing team is really needed. All Thomas wants us to do for the moment is keep the other Lycans in our pack in check, and keep an eye out for any creature deemed hazardous."

"Hazardous?" Felix repeated.

"There are those, on both sides, who would rather see us back at war with each other," Boyd explained carefully. "And Thomas won't allow that. And from what he has said about the Vampyre Elder, Ralf, he won't stand for it either. It doesn't mean that some won't try, though."

"How do you know you can trust us, sir?" Kat asked. As one of the newest arrivals to the Lycan ranks, she was still unsure of her place in the pack and more than a little in awe of Boyd.

Boyd smiled wryly. "I've been a Lycan for a very long time and have developed excellent instincts for this kind of thing."

"Most of the time," Spencer muttered.

Boyd ignored him. "If Thomas didn't think I was capable of this position, he wouldn't have offered it to me," he finished. But Kat didn't look convinced. "Alright, let me put it this way. Would *you* cross me?"

Kat blanched. "No, sir."

"Do you think anyone in this room is stupid enough to?"

She smiled slightly when she heard the other two laugh briefly. "No, sir."

"Then that's your answer. But I would like to know right now, from all of you, whether you agree with the pacification pact or not. And I want truthful answers."

"I'd much rather be enjoying myself than fighting," Spencer replied with a shrug. "After all, that's what being immortal is all about."

Felix pursed her lips. "I'm not happy about it. The Vampyres killed my family, and it's not something you can easily forget, especially when you're an immortal. But I wouldn't dare do anything to restart the war. And I certainly wouldn't want to go up against you, Boyd."

He smiled back. "Good. Kat?"

"I haven't...been here long enough to develop an opinion, sir, but I think peace is better than fighting. Unless, of course, we're fighting for a reason," she replied quietly.

"A fair point. So, you know what I want from all of you. Keep an eye on your fellow Lycans, even those you consider to be 'innocent'. Thomas doesn't want to make our job public knowledge but you know how things are around here. It won't stay a secret for long. Some Lycans will want to disown us, condemn us for our actions, try to outcast us. As long as you can put up with their childish, petty taunts and provocative behaviour, there won't be a problem."

"And we're to report to you," Felix said.

"Or Spencer. He's my second."

Spencer looked surprised. "Really? I thought... Nah, forget it. I didn't actually think, that's part of the problem."

Boyd clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll grow out of that in a few centuries or so."

"Thanks," he replied dryly.

"Our job should be fairly easy. Our main objective to start with would be to identify those Lycans most likely to cause trouble. It should be fairly obvious who they are. Of course, there will be some surprises along the way, there always are, but for the most part, the troublemakers can be spotted a mile away. Once those individuals are marked, we just have to make sure they don't do anything...stupid."

"And what if we need to use...force?" Spencer asked.

Felix nodded in agreement. "That's why I asked before – how far does our authority go? What are the boundaries?"

"For now, we'll use our own discretion," Boyd replied. "But if we come across a situation that seems...explosive, a snap decision will have to be made, and I'll have to trust each of your senses of judgement when it comes to that decision. In public, I'll back anything you do one hundred percent. In private...that's a different matter entirely. If I don't agree with something, you will know about it. As will Thomas."

Spencer nodded curtly. "Understood, sir."

"I have to make weekly reports to Thomas as well," Boyd added.

"When do we start?" Felix asked.

Boyd looked at the clock on the wall. "Tomorrow. Spence, you and Felix can stay here and circulate while Kat and I patrol the streets," he told them. "Now, get a good night's sleep. We start early."

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"Do we get paid?"  
Grace rolled her eyes and turned to glance at Mel, who sat sprawled in a chair grinning. "Why would you possibly want paying?" she asked.

Mel held her hands up. "I was only joking."

"I don't know, the idea has merit," Eve drawled, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Then take it up with Ralf," Grace replied curtly.

Eve stared at the smoke swirling up towards the ceiling. "I might just do that."

"Just ignore her, Grace," Jackie said, also rolling her eyes at the pale woman. All Vampyres were naturally pale, obviously, but Eve carried 'white' to an extent so extremely that her skin was almost translucent. Of course, it wasn't helped that her hair, eyes, and nails were all pitch black; the contrast was quite startling.

Grace smiled at her fellow exponent. "Thanks, Jackie. Right, any more questions?"

Mel raised her hand. "Pick me, pick me!"

"Oh for Blood's sake," Eve murmured, rolling *her* eyes.

"Yes?" Grace asked.

"How much authority do we have?" the small blonde Vampyre asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're going to help you...'weed out', so to speak, the bad seeds from our own coven," Mel said, her tone and expression now serious. "Things could get very ugly very quickly for us if we're not careful. We need to know how much authority we've got so we don't make fools of ourselves or cause a major incident."

"It's a very good question," Grace replied. "I would say that we should be cautious for now, just...keep an eye on things, keep our eyes and ears open for any signs of dissidence amongst our fellow Vampyres. This pacification pact is very important to Ralf, and to Elder Lycan Thomas as well, and I don't think either of them wants to see it destroyed. And talk to those troubled by the sudden change from war to peace." She looked to her left. "That's where we come in."

Jackie nodded. "It won't be easy. I know at least a handful of Vampyres who enjoyed the killings."

"We'll manage," Grace affirmed. "It'll take some time for all of us to adjust but if we all believe in this pact enough, we'll try our damnedest to make sure it works."

"Which brings me to another question," Eve said. "How do you know you can trust us?"

Grace's gaze almost speared her to the chair. "I am usually an excellent judge of character. My role as coven's exponent is ensured because of my unsurpassed ability to read peoples' intentions. Yes, sometimes I am wrong, but those times are few and far between. And if I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have picked you for this team. But, since you did bring it up, let me ask you all this: do you believe in this pacification pact? Do you think it's the right thing?"

Mel was the first to answer. "Yes. Without a doubt. The Lycans are as much a part of this world as we are, and while we might be lifelong immortal enemies, it doesn't mean we can't have peace occasionally. It may not last longer than a few centuries, but they do say a change is as good as a rest."

Jackie nodded. "I agree."

"The Lycans killed your family," Grace pointed out quietly.

"Yes, they did, and while I freely admit that I would find it extremely difficult to even look at a Lycan without wanting to kill them, we do need peace. Besides," Jackie said, smiling, "I wouldn't dare cross you."

"Me either," Mel added.

Grace turned to Eve. "Well?"

"Lycans, Vampyres, dead bodies are all the same to me," she replied. "And that's why you picked me for the team. With no more fighting, it means no more dead bodies to inspect, making sure the Lycans hadn't found a new weapon to use against us. No more treating stupid cross burns or garlic breath."

Mel grinned sheepishly. "It's stupid to think that garlic gets rid of Vampyres. I love the stuff."

"Yes, I have noticed," Eve said dryly. "As I was saying, dead bodies are all I know. Live ones cause too much trouble. So, I suppose I would actually be happy if the war started again, but I'm not brave enough to be the one to tilt the scales."

"So, I'll be keeping an extra close eye on you, then," Grace remarked sternly.

Eve didn't even blink. "Use both eyes, you'll need them.

Jackie fixed Eve with a glare. "Enough," she said sharply. "Grace, outline our job again for us, please, just in case some of us weren't listening." Her eyes never left the overly pale Vampyre's.

"As I said before, to start with we just need to mix with the others, keeping our eye and ears open. Try to identify those Vampyres who are unhappy with the pact, they should be fairly easy to spot. And once marked, just make sure they don't do anything stupid. Of course, we can't stop them. We're not a police force. But we can report to Ralf, who will then deal with the problem."

"And if we have to make a snap decision?" Mel asked. "What if the situation demands us making a choice on the spot, no time to ask you or Ralf?"

"Or Jackie," Grace added. "She's my second."

Jackie looked shell-shocked. "I thought... Oh, never mind. Thank you."

"As for snap decisions, you just do what you have to do. In public, I'll back anything you decide to do. In private..."

Mel nodded. "It's a different matter. Understood." She sighed. "The others won't like this if they find out."

"You mean *when* they find out," Eve corrected. "You know something like this won't stay quiet for long, not around here."

"We will receive some heat for our new jobs, make no mistake about that," Grace told them. "But if you want to stay on the team, you just have to stay strong. We have been appointed by Ralf; if anyone is so unhappy about that, they can take it up with him."

"I don't think anyone's stupid enough," Mel said.

But Jackie shook her head. "There's always one."

After a brief silence, Eve spoke up. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow, the moment we've woken and fed," Grace replied. "There's a lot to do."

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The half-moon was giving off as much light as a rescue search beam, and the hooded figure shielded their eyes, moving back into the shadow of the tree. *'Too much light,'* they thought, scowling at the moon. *'Not a good thing.'*

A slight far off rustle make them tense, their corner teeth coming out as the rest were bared. The hooded figure did not want to be there, but they had no choice. The feeling was too strong, a feeling that had to be acted upon. They wanted to say it was for the good of all creatures, but whether that was true or not remained to be seen.

Another twig cracking, this time much closer, and the hooded figure retreated back into the shadows completely. Then the sound of breathing, the air misting up in front of someone's face, the mist lit by the moon.

"You're late."

"I wasn't aware we were on such a tight schedule," the newcomer replied. Also hooded, facial features completely hidden, the two were light wraiths in the night, more shadow than flesh.

"Well?"

"It won't be easy."

"These things never are. Is it possible?"

The newcomer nodded slowly. "I think so.

"Others?"

"Unknown."

There was a brief silence, with only the wind for company. "When do you think?"

"Soon, before it gets any more difficult," the newcomer replied.

"If we're found out..."

"I know, they'll kill us. But it's worth the risk."

"I hope you're right."

The newcomer sighed. "So do I."

TBC


	4. Fourth Stroke of Midnight

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Despite being able to go out during the day, not suffering the same curse as their fellow immortal brethren, the Vampyres, Lycans were still creatures of the night, far more comfortable in the dark than the light, although London was a particularly unique city: covered in thick grey cloud most of the time, the sun hardly ever shone, and there had been rumours of Vampyres venturing out in the day time. Boyd didn't believe such rubbish, of course. It was simply impossible for Vampyres to go out during the light hours, and even if it was true, they would have been spotted by hunting packs a long time ago. No Vampyre was stealthy enough to hide from a Lycan. None.

"May I ask a question, sir?"

Boyd growled. "Say whatever you want, just stop calling me 'sir'!"

Kat blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, but what am I supposed to call you?" she asked. "You're one of the elder generations of Lycans, not to mention one of Elder Thomas' favourites. 'Sir' seems an appropriate title."

"Call me Boyd, that's my name, after all," he replied tersely.

"Yes, sir. I mean, Boyd."

He rolled his eyes, pulled his collar closer to his neck, and carried on walking. The wind was whipping up a storm, he could feel it in his bones, and it wasn't going to be a night to be outside for anyone. That, of course, made it the perfect time to be checking no one was doing anything they shouldn't be doing. The cover of darkness made for the ideal hiding place for any third party of dissidents wishing to cause trouble.

"Boyd, do you think this is going to work?" Kat asked after a while.

"What?" he replied distractedly, his eyes trained on a familiar figure across the street.

Kat didn't appear notice. "This whole scheme of Thomas'. Not that I'm questioning an Elder," she added hurriedly. "I just know that our pack seem to be particularly clever..."

"You mean 'sneaky'," Boyd said, rounding on her suddenly. "Don't mince words, say what you mean. If you're going to stay on this team, you need to grow a backbone."

The young Lycan stared at him for a moment, and Boyd could almost see her jutting her bottom jaw out defiantly. "Fine. Our pack seem particularly sneaky, and if they're going to cause trouble, how are we going to stop them? Felix might be good, and you could be fantastic, but I'm new here and I've got no idea what the rest are like. And Spencer...well, he seems..." She paused as she looked for the right words. "If he was a woman, he'd be blonde."

Boyd barked a laugh. "Best description I've ever heard of him, although with his colouring, blonde would not be a good colour."

Kat smiled as well, relaxing a little in her superior's company. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if someone wants to cause trouble, they'll find a way of doing it, no matter how hard we try to stop them."

"That's true. That's also why we're out on this Blood hellish night, because the ones who would cause trouble will think no one else is stupid enough to be out and that their little rendezvouses will be safe."

"They're half right," Kat muttered. "Now, are you going to tell me who is so interesting over there or should I just guess?"

Boyd growled again. "You're sharp one, aren't you?"

"Sometimes."

"Good. That'll come in very handy with our new job."

Kat stopped suddenly and glared at him through narrow eyes, her hands on her hips. "You *knew*," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

Boyd just shrugged. "Of course I did. I'm not stupid." He glanced at her. "I picked everyone on this team for a reason. You were no exception."

"It was Frankie, wasn't it."

"What do you mean, 'was'?" Boyd asked.

"You zoned out for a moment. You were watching Frankie. She's gone now," Kat replied shortly.

Boyd turned and saw she was indeed correct. "Blood's wrath!" he swore.

"What's the problem?" the young Lycan asked. "Is she someone we need to keep an eye on?"

"What do you think?"

Kat ignored the sharpness in his voice. "I think you two have got history together, and yes, I've heard the stories, the rumours. And I think that history clouds your judgement. You *want* her to be one of the Lycans who might cause trouble, because that would give you a reason to get rid of her."

"And you need to watch what you're saying!" Boyd roared at her.

She flinched, but stood her ground. "You told me to speak plainly and that's what I'm doing."

"I also told you to grow a backbone but I didn't expect you to do it so quickly," he replied spitefully."

"I'm a fast learner," she told him. "If you don't want me to mention it any more, I won't."

"I don't." They started walking again, Boyd seemingly more focussed on his surroundings than before, but soon he broke the silence. "Did you see who she was with?"

"Another female. Quite tall, auburn hair that looked curled..."

Boyd snarled angrily and swore for several minutes without repeating himself. Kat could only stare at him in surprise and a small amount of awe. "Linda," he all but spat.

"I've heard the name, but everyone usually goes silent about her," Kat said. "Who is she?"

"Trouble," Boyd growled low in his throat.

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"What do you think it would be like to go out during the day?"

Grace turned to look at Mel in surprise. "I haven't really given it much thought. Why? Don't you remember what daylight was like, the feel of the sun on your skin?"

Mel smiled. "This is London. When was the last time *anyone* saw the sun?"

"Good point," Grace replied, smiling as well.

"Don't *you* remember what it was like?"

"Surprisingly, I do," Grace said, her eyes darting left to right.

"And?"

"And that's it."

Mel had known Grace long enough to know when to leave a topic well alone and it was clear that she had touched a nerve with talk of daytime, though what it could have been, Mel had no idea. But something about the conversation stirred a memory within the younger Vampyre and despite her better judgement, she carried on with the same train of thought.

"You've heard the rumours, haven't you, about Vampyres being able to go out during the day?" Mel asked as they continued walking the streets.

"Yes," Grace replied shortly.

"Do you believe them?"

She stopped suddenly. "What is this all about?"

Mel hung her head a little sheepishly. "I suppose we all think about it at one point or another, don't we? It's okay for the Lycans, they can go out any time of the day, or night. I wonder, sometimes, if they appreciate the freedom they've got."

"Because they're just mindless, mangy animals?" Grace asked mildly.

Mel just shrugged. "I was just wondering. I do occasionally."

Grace noticed the younger Vampyre didn't answer the question, but didn't press her about it. Pro-Lycan feelings weren't exactly unknown amongst Vampyres, Ralf being a good example of that, but it was uncommon. Though if Mel did have kindly tendencies towards Lycans, it would make their job a hell of a lot easier. They walked on in silence, the wind whipping mercilessly at them, and Grace fancied she smelt rain in the air. The storm that was brewing would ensure that everyone except the troublemakers would be safely inside, and that was why Grace and Mel were out in the bad weather, although the exponent felt that the storm was brewing in more ways than one. If Ralf suspected trouble was on the horizon, he must have a grounding for his doubts, and if he was worried, then Grace was instantly on her guard. Ralf was not a creature prone to panicking unnecessarily.

"Grace, do you think this is going to work?" Mel asked after a little while.

"What?" she replied distractedly, her eyes glued to an all too familiar figure across the street.

Mel noticed and shook her head. "Watching Harry won't make him do anything he shouldn't, you know."

"You don't know him like I do," Grace snapped. "What the hell is he doing back here anyway?"

"Trying to aggravate you, and it's working," Mel replied. "Just ignore him. I might not know him as well as you do, but I remember him from before he was sent away. He's arrogant and he's a troublemaker, and if he sees that he's getting you riled, he'll get a kick out of it. So don't let him get to you."

Grace turned to her companion and smiled. "You're learning."

"Only taken me a couple of hundred years," Mel replied with a rueful smile.

"True. Let's go before he sees us." They started walking again and as soon as they were out of sight, Grace asked, "Will what work?"

"This scheme of Ralf's. Not that I'm questioning an Elder..."

"Of course not," the exponent remarked dryly.

Mel ignored her. "...But it seems that if someone wants to cause trouble, they'll find a way around us."

"Indeed they will, and that just means we'll have to be sneakier than them."

"And the rest of the team..."

"You have doubts."

"I do."

"Then let's hear them," Grace said, sitting down at an outside table of one of the late opening cafés.

"You're involvement goes without question."

"Does it?"

Mel looked surprised. "Of course it does. No one knows Vampyres – or people, for that matter – like you do. Your ability is uncanny. I mean, Jackie's good, but... I don't know, there's just something about her."

"I've known her a long time, I can vouch for her," Grace said.

"I know, but my gut tells me something just isn't right with her, that's all," Mel replied. "And Eve...seriously, Grace, whatever possessed you?"

The older Vampyre smiled. "I know she's a little...eccentric, but she's quite brilliant at what she does."

"Which is talks to dead bodies."

"I'm not sure talking comes into it."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I've heard her."

"Well, that's beside the point," Grace said. "She is extremely intelligent, and believe me, what you see is mostly façade with her. She'll do her job well."

"I hope you're right about that," Mel murmured.

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"Now *this* is the life," Spencer drawled as he sat lounging in one of the armchairs in the living room of the den. The fire was roaring, the heat spreading evenly throughout the room and making everyone a little drowsy.

Felix looked at him disdainfully. "You are the true definition of a creature of the night," she said.

"Thanks."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know." Spencer looked at her over the rim of his glass. "Do you know what your problem is?" he asked when he stopped drinking.

"I wasn't aware I had one," Felix replied dryly.

"You take things far too seriously," Spencer told her, ignoring her remark. "You can't be an immortal and be so sober all the time, so...unplayful."

She glared at him. "The Vampyres murdered my family. My parents, my brother and his son, and my little sister. How am I supposed to act?"

Spencer sat up and leant forwards. "No one will talk to you if you're like this," he said in a low voice, suddenly very serious. "They don't even want to be in your company."

"Fine with me."

"It might be what you want, but it doesn't help *us*," he continued. "I'm not saying you have to forgive the Vampyres for what they did, and I'm not saying forget what happened. But try to move on, or at least pretend to. If Thomas believes trouble is brewing, and he trusts us to prevent disaster from happening, then we need to be on our guard. We need to try and preserve this fragile peace for the sake of our own pack, not to mention the Vampyres. I realise you have no love for them, but they're a part of this world as much as we are. Peace could well be best for all of us, even the damned humans." He then smiled at her. "And if you ever want to talk, you know where I am."

"You're not my type," Felix replied mildly.

"And you're not mine," he responded instantly. "Purely platonic."

Felix stared off into space and was silent for a long time. Lycans came past and nodded to Spencer, but ignored her, though he noticed a few glanced in her direction. "Thank you," she said eventually, then shook her head. "It's been a long time since I said that to anyone."

Spencer grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Do you think it's going to work?" she asked him after a few moments.

"You mean us spying on our fellow Lycans?" Spencer sighed. "I don't know, but it's clear Thomas believes it will work. And Boyd as well."

"How can you be so sure?"

"If he didn't agree, you would know about it. Believe me, when he's unhappy or doesn't agree with something, *everyone* knows about it," Spencer explained with a smile. "And I trust them both, which is why I'm going to give this job everything I've got. I might look like I'm lounging around enjoying the good life, but don't let appearances fool you."

Felix regarded him carefully. "I'm already revising my opinion of you. The phrase involving the words 'books' and 'covers' comes to mind."

But Spencer wasn't listening. His expression had darkened and his eyes narrowed. "Now there's trouble," he muttered.

Felix turned to see what he was glaring at and saw Linda walking past, dressed in a heavy coat showing she had only just come into the den. "I don't know why we don't just lock her in a room somewhere so she can't cause trouble, because I'm betting she'll be the one who is involved in the explosion when it inevitably occurs."

"That's a bet I won't be taking you up on," Spencer replied.

"And I'm not sure about her, either," Felix said, her eyes flickering to another figure, who also looked like they had just come home.

"She's not that bad."

Felix raised her eyebrows at Spencer's defensive tone. "I've heard the tales, Spence, concerning Frankie..."

"They're just that, tales," he snapped back at her before she could finish speaking.

"Just because she ignores you and your advances, don't take it out on me," Felix told him coldly. Then she stood up. "I'm going down to the gym. I might be able to pick some information up in there."

"Felix, I'm..."

"Sorry?" she asked him. "Don't be. So many people say the words but no one ever means it. Why should you be any different?" With that, she strode from the room.

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Jackie stared disdainfully at Eve, who sat lounging in a chair sipping at a glass of wine. There was something about the pale Vampyre that set her teeth on edge, but Jackie couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. Perhaps it was her carefree manner she was jealous off, the easy way in which Eve seemed to slip into any role required of her, or maybe it was because she seemed to go out of her way to irritate people. At least that's how Jackie saw it.

"This is the life," Eve murmured, blowing smoke rings up towards the ceiling.

"We're here to do a job, try not to forget that," Jackie told her.

"Your problem is that you take things far too seriously," Eve replied, ignoring her comment.

"I wasn't aware I had a problem," Jackie said.

"For the coven's second exponent, there's a certain amount of irony and amusement to that statement." She stubbed her cigarette out. "You need to learn to relax, enjoy life. After all, being immortal means you'll be around for a quite a while."

"The Lycans killed my husband, my two nieces and my nephew," Jackie replied coldly. "If you had suffered like I have, you would be so serious as well."

But Eve just shrugged. "As you wish. But you do realise that it will be *you* who makes this job more difficult than it should be."

"And how did you arrive at that particularly astounding conclusion?"

"How many Vampyres have come to talk to me this evening already? At least a dozen. How many have spoken to you?" Eve's dark eyes bored into Jackie's. "You may not realise it, but your hate for the Lycans and the pain you are insisting that you suffer has built a wall around you, one that has huge spray painted words on it saying 'leave me alone'. And in capitals, no less." Her tone was amused, bordering on sarcastic. "No one will *want* to come and talk to you, and if you're with myself, Grace or Mel, then soon, no one will want to talk to them either. If you truly believe in preserving this pacification pact, then you need to at least pretend to move on so that you make yourself more approachable."

"Would you like my job?" Jackie asked acidly.

"Not particularly. Live things are far too much trouble for me. Dead things are much easier to deal with."

"When you harbour and nurture hate for so long, it's difficult to let go of it," Jackie admitted after a few moments.

"If you want this to work, you need to try," Eve replied.

The older Vampyre looked at her. "Do you really believe that this will work?"

"You mean our career changes to spies? Perhaps. All I know is that Ralf believes it, and because of that, so does Grace."

Jackie nodded. "I agree." Then she smiled and shook her head. "There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?"

"We are all books just waiting to be read," Eve replied. "Of course, everyone reads something different, and that's the fun part."

But Jackie wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on a figure across the road. "Now there is someone I cannot get a line on."

Eve twisted in her seat to see Stella entering the room, looking as though she had only just come home. "I know what you mean," she replied, turning away as the redhead's eyes made contact with hers.

"And there's another one."

"I don't want to have to turn around again. Who is it?"

"Harry."

"I don't think he's that bad," Eve drawled. "In fact, I would say he's rather dishy."

Jackie looked at her incredulously. "Haven't you heard the tales concerning him?"

"Of course. But they're only tales, rumours. I prefer to get my information first hand."

"On your own head be it, but be careful." Jackie stood. "I'm going down to the kitchens, see if I can pick any information up."

Eve didn't bother replying, she just waved her hand negligently as she lit up another cigarette.

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Boyd and Kat had followed Linda for a time, but when it became clear she was heading back to the den, they broke off. "Now what?" Kat asked.

"Coffee time, I think, and then perhaps call it a night," Boyd replied, heading towards the area with the late opening cafés.

Kat looked up at the clock tower. "It is almost midnight."

"I know. We could stay out longer, but I want to see how Felix and Spencer have gotten on."

"You mean you want to make sure they haven't killed each other." She smiled. "They certainly are opposites."

"Some say they attract."

"Not when it comes to those two, I don't think," Kat said.

Boyd smiled as well. "You're probably right."

As they entered the square, they both stopped and surveyed the area, looking for an empty table. The cafés lining the edges of the square were no more busy than normal, but there seemed to be less tables and none which seemed to be empty.

"There's one," Kat said eventually.

As Boyd followed her, the occupants of the table next to the empty one stood, ready to leave.

"Well, that was a spectacular waste of time," Mel said to Grace.

"Not really. We need to pick up some patterns first, get to know the habits of our coven, then we'll know instantly if something is wrong," she replied, standing and turning.

Three feet from each other, their eyes locked and invisible flames of tension flickered between them as Boyd and Grace just stared at each other. Kat growled low in the her throat, recognising the other two for what they were, and she prepared to attack. Mel glared at her, baring her corner teeth and almost daring her to make the first move.

"This is part of our territory," the blonde Vampyre snarled.

"Last time I checked, it was *ours,*" Kat snapped back. "Unless you've been changing the lines again to suit your own ends!"

"No!" Grace said as Mel went to strike the Lycan.

At the same time, Boyd turned to Kat, his tone forceful. "Enough."

Both younger creatures glared at each other for a moment longer before bowing to their elders' wishes. Boyd and Grace turned back, their eyes locking again instantly, both wanting to say something but neither knowing what. Instead, Boyd took Kat's arm and started to walk away, but not without an imperceptible nod at Grace, who returned it, took Mel's arm, and headed in the exact opposite direction.

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"That was close."

"So close. But at least everyone is in position now. All the major players have entered the game."

"This isn't a game!" The exclamation was sharp, followed by a shake of the head. "Do you really think it's a good idea?"

The taller of the shadowy pair shrugged slightly. "I think it's necessary. Whether it's a good idea or not remains to be seen."

"That's not the answer I was hoping for."

"It's the only answer you're going to get."

The shorter of the pair grunted softly. "I don't want to fight."

"It's what we do."

"It doesn't have to be only that."

The taller shook their head. "I'm not getting into this with you. This is the way things have to be."

"For us, yes. Perhaps. But the others?"

"It'll be their choice. If they choose to cause trouble..."

"You see far too sure of that."

"Because I *am* sure. I know them. And so do you."

"I do indeed." The shorter of the pair sighed. "Now what?"

"Now we have to wait and see, and hope that if push comes to shove, we've got the balls to back up our play."

"I hope you're right. I really do. Because if not, we're dead."

TBC


	5. Fifth Day

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To say Boyd was in a bad mood would have been a gross understatement. He hadn't slept, had hardly eaten, for three days and no one dared asked why, or could even guess the reason for his grouchiness. Spencer had given up trying to talk to him, deciding that whatever it was, he'd get over it eventually. Kat, though, didn't have that option; she still had to work with him, although it was getting to the point where she would have rather eaten broccoli every day for the rest of her life rather than spend one more nanosecond with Boyd.

But one Lycan who had noticed this permanent anger knew the reason was deep, knew it wasn't just a minor complaint but something that could seriously unravel Boyd if he wasn't careful, but approaching him about it was not the easiest thing. In time, soon, there would be a confrontation over it, one Boyd was certain to lose, but it did him good not to win every battle.

Boyd was completely unaware of the plotting against him, though it was for his own good. He paced his room in frustration, growling loudly every few seconds. Everything in there annoyed him; he hated the colour of the walls, the shape of the furniture, the height of the bed, the length of the curtains, the lights on the ceiling. Every iota of dust offended him, every slight breeze from the open window ruffled his soul as well as his hair, but shutting the window made him feel so claustrophobic that he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin. And he couldn't tell anyone why he was so angry, couldn't share his problem with a single creature, Lycan or otherwise.

Every time Boyd closed his eyes, she was there. He could see those sharp blues eyes as clearly as day, the gaze boring straight through him. Her hair, shorter than he usually liked it, was not naturally blonde, at least not any more, but stylish and it suited her. *Really* suited her. Usually the rest of her body followed in the visual and Boyd always managed to block it out. But the last few hours had been the worst. All he could see were her shapely arms hanging so loosely by her side, the way her waist curved in before her hips flared out, her thighs... He shook his head and growled again. And her breasts! Boyd felt like they were begging for attention more than the rest of her but in that same thought, he knew he was living an impossible dream. She was a Vampyre, he was a Lycan, and even if the two races hadn't been at war, even if...

With a hoarse, guttural yell of sheer frustration, Boyd aimed his fist at the wall, growling once more in anger when he failed to make a dent, a howl of pain following almost immediately afterwards. He had forgotten his walls were reinforced, courtesy of Thomas himself. Boyd's temper was legendary and after a few years, the Lycan Elder tired of repairing everything in his room. The furniture was similarly reinforced and, in all probability, indestructible; Boyd had tried many ways over the centuries and had still to succeed in even damaging it properly.

Three days. That was how long it had been since he had seen her, since they had almost spoken, almost touched... They had communicated, silently of course, but still, a connection was a connection. And that was what Boyd had felt. For the first time in centuries, he had felt a real, solid connection with another being, and someone outside of his own kind, no less. He had a good friendship with Spencer, and his relationship with Thomas was, in many ways, without definition, but with her... And he didn't even know her name! It was like some ridiculous infatuation and that was exactly what Boyd would have put it down to, had it not been for the tug at the base of his soul telling him that this was something he should not ignore.

Stretching his neck muscles, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, Boyd walked to the window and stared out into the bleak greyness that was supposed to be daytime. One phase of the day blended into another until sometimes, he couldn't tell one end of a week from the other. He ran a hand over his face, absently noting he needed to shave, though the prospect of growing a beard was appealing. Frankie had expressed her distaste for face fuzz on more than one occasion and anything that put her off him was a good thing, in his book. Sighing, Boyd slid his hand around to the back of his neck and began to knead them, wishing he could sleep, even if it was only for a few minutes, wishing...

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Swearing, whirling and crouching, all in the space of a second, Boyd glared at Thomas. "I wish you wouldn't *do* that!" he shouted, forgetting he was talking to an Elder, to a Lycan so powerful he could probably swat Boyd like a fly. Forgetting it all in the face of his anger, born of being scared.

Thomas, however, didn't even blink. "I thought you would have heard me. You usually do."

"Usually. You forget that you creep exceptionally well," Boyd replied, his voice barely controlled.

"I've had years of practice." He looked around the room slowly, then sat in the armchair. "Well? Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About whatever has you in such a foul mood. About why you haven't slept probably for at least three days, if not five. And about why you stupidly tried to dent the wall."

Boyd's shoulders slumped slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't bother to ask how Thomas knew about the wall, or even how long ago it was since he had slept, though the idea of being under such close scrutiny didn't appeal to the silver-haired Lycan.

"It's nothing," Boyd replied eventually, knowing his lie wouldn't fool Thomas for even a fraction of a second, but he simply wasn't brave enough to just blurt out the truth. Even under more normal circumstances, the sheer scope of the thoughts running through his mind would unsettle the Lycan Elder, of that he was sure.

Thomas didn't look at Boyd, contented himself with looking out of the window instead. The silence that grew in the room threatened to choke the younger Lycan, but Boyd kept his mouth shut and waited for the Elder to speak first.

"Do you know why we were at war with the Vampyres?" Thomas asked quietly.

"I was told they started it," Boyd replied carefully.

The Elder smiled. "Of course. And they will have been told that we started it. You had only been a Lycan a scant amount of time before the war, you did not care for the reasons. It wasn't the only war, but I am going to make sure it is the last. We have fought for too long, it is time we started talking and listening."

"Which is why you created my unit," Boyd said. "I understand that, Thomas, but what does that have to do with me? Is there something *you* want to tell *me*?"

"Boyd, my old friend, there are a great many things I would like to tell you, but you either wouldn't be interested or simply wouldn't listen. I could tell you things that would guarantee your happiness. I could tell you all the mistakes I know you will make and save you a great deal of heartache in the future." Thomas finally looked at his companion. "There is something important that I do wish to share with you now, though, and I want you to listen."

Spoken in a calm voice, it was a command nonetheless, and Boyd straightened. "Go on."

"Over the coming days, weeks and months – perhaps even years – you will hear a great deal and learn a lot about the Vampyres, but no matter what, you must remember one thing: not all Vampyres are bad. Just the same with Lycans. For the most part, they are good creatures, like us, even like the humans, but evil deeds will always outshine the good ones. There will be misunderstandings between the two races, which will lead to anger, resentment, and the call for bloodshed. You must not allow this to happen."

"Me?" Boyd asked incredulously. He was so caught up in the sense of deja vu pertaining to the conversation that he lost track of what Thomas was actually saying. It was almost as though the Elder was deliberately repeating himself in the hopes that Boyd would pay attention and while that notion wasn't completely ridiculous, the younger Lycan couldn't help but wonder why.

"Yes, you," Thomas replied sincerely. "You are my last hope. Don't ask why because I cannot tell you. You have to trust me. Boyd, there are forces at work here that you cannot know about, ones that are hidden and must remain so. But there are other hidden forces which seek to undermine all mine, and Ralf's, hard work. Those are the ones you have to seek out. I can only hope you can tell the difference between the ones that must be left alone and the ones that must be stopped."

"And if I can't?"

Thomas' brown eyes turned hard and for a second, Boyd flinched at the power the man conveyed. "You won't live to regret your decision or to figure out exactly where you went wrong." He looked away. "Boyd, you must trust me. I know trust is a hard thing for you to do, even with me, but it is what I need from you."

"I understand."

The Elder smiled. "No, you don't, but you'll do it anyway because above all else, you're a soldier, used to following commands even if they don't make sense."

Boyd shrugged. "There is that about it."

"Now I suggest you get some sleep." Surprisingly, as soon as the words left Thomas' mouth, Boyd felt his eyelids growing heavy. "Just think on what I have said, but especially about the Vampyres: not all of them are bad," the Elder told his companion. "And one day, you may even find you are almost friends with one. If Ralf and I can manage civility, I am certain you can as well."

But Boyd didn't respond; he was already sleeping the sleep of the dead.

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Over the centuries, Thomas' assumptions about Boyd have proved to be correct on every occasion, but that day, his assumption that Boyd hadn't heard his parting words was made in error. The silver-haired Lycan had indeed been sleeping but the instant he awoke, his subconscious reminded him of what he had missed while slumbering. It took a while for Boyd to clear the fog from his head, the sleep not easily dismissed now he had found it, and after he had showered and dressed, he dragged himself to the kitchen in search of strong coffee and something to eat. It was almost as if the last five days hadn't happened, like it had all be a bad dream; his foul mood was evaporating quite rapidly, his appetite had returned with a vengeance, and he felt fit and refreshed after several hours of sleep. As the caffeine entered his system and began its much needed work, Boyd thought back over the conversation with Thomas. It was clear that the Elder was trying to tell him something, but precisely *what* escaped him for the moment. All Boyd knew for certain was that Thomas was hiding something, something important, and even though he had been warned off, on pain of death, Boyd knew he wouldn't be able to leave the mystery alone now. He had been charged with making sure that no Lycan encouraged dissidence or unrest, that no Lycan tried to start the war with the Vampyres again, or caused trouble of any kind. In Boyd's mind, that meant the Elder as well. No one was exempt. They *couldn't* be. As he finished his breakfast, he knew he was setting himself a dangerous task, knew he had been warned off for a reason, but now the seed of curiosity had been sown in his mind, it was far to late to ignore it. Only one question remained; did he involve the rest of his team?

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Elsewhere in the den, another Lycan was also involved in some heavy, deep thinking, but still with the same goal as Boyd: to protect the pack. But their way of doing it differed greatly from his; their way would involve much bloodshed and fighting, but in their eyes, it was necessary. At least that is what they kept telling themselves. But after listening to the conversation between Boyd and Thomas, after hearing Thomas defending the Vampyres, even suggesting he was 'friends' with their Elder, Ralf... It was obscene, unheard of that the two men should even be on such civil speaking terms, let alone being...friends. No, such talk could not be allowed, not even from the Elder. The Lycan sighed. They knew what they were contemplating would earn them the wrath of the entire pack, especially Boyd, if they were to be found out. But there was a way around it, if one was careful. The Vampyres, after all, were useful for some things...

TBC


	6. Sixth Night

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To say Grace was distracted would have been a huge understatement. She hadn't slept properly for four nights, not eaten for the same amount of time, but no one asked, or even tried to guess, why. Every time the other Vampyres tried to talk to her, she would simply glare and walk off. Even Mel had given up, deciding that whatever the problem was, she would get over it, which caused some problems with regards to their work, but the young Vampyre made it perfectly clear that she wouldn't go anywhere near Grace until she was out of her 'mood'.

But one Vampyre knew the reason for Grace's distraction was something quite serious, not a minor problem, something that could cause major trouble for the coven's exponent, but approaching her about it wasn't exactly easy. Yet it had to be done, and soon. There would undoubtedly be some sort of confrontation, but Grace would not win the battle; it could not be allowed.

Grace was completely unaware of the plans being made against her, even though they were for her own good. She had locked herself in her room, rearranging the furniture at least once every few hours in an attempt to purge the recurring thoughts from her mind, but it was futile. Everything seemed to be out of place, everything seemed to be conspiring against her, mocking her. Grace knew it was stupid; furniture, after all, could not talk or accuse, but her thoughts were so dangerous, she felt as though everything in the room knew them. She longed to tell someone, tell *anyone*, what was troubling, her, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell a single soul, and that constriction made her want to crawl right out of her own skin.

Every time Grace closed her eyes, he was there. She could see his dark obsidian eyes as clearly as night, the powerful gaze boring straight through her. His hair was longer than she expected, at first seemingly more salt and pepper but after the closer, albeit brief, inspection she had been granted, it was more silver than anything else. But it suited him, made him more distinguished, like a gentleman. She shook her head. He was a Lycan. End of story. Or at least it should have been. But for Grace, she couldn't block him from her thoughts, couldn't stop herself from visualising his body. Those broad shoulders, his narrowing waist, the way he walked so precisely, so confidently, the broad expanse of his back, and the muscles under the clothes she could only dream about... Grace shook her head and straightened her bedding for the hundredth time in the last hour. It was an impossible dream! He was a Lycan, she a Vampyre, and even if the two races had never warred, it was just...

Turning suddenly, Grace picked up the nearest chair and smashed it against the wall, screaming loudly as she did so, all of her anger and frustration going into that noise. It just wasn't fair, none of it. The first time she had felt a connection with another person - a proper connection, not what had happened with Harry – and he had to be the bloody enemy! And she didn't even know his name! Of course she was close with Mel, and with Ralf, but in a different way, but this...this was special, this was something else. And for four days, Grace hadn't thought about anything, or anyone, else. For four days, the silver-haired Lycan had filled her mind, her dreams, her every waking moment. Try as she might, she could not ignore him or forget him.  
Ignoring the debris on the floor, and the splinter in her finger, Grace went to the window and gazed out into the inky blackness of night. Even though she had been awake during the daytime, she hadn't seen much of it, except on the security cameras, and to her mind, day looked very much like night; the only way to tell the time was to look at the different shades of grey outside. Rubbing her eyes, Grace longed for a shower, maybe even a hair cut, anything that would make her feel better. Harry had always hated her hair so short, which was one reason she kept it like that. But the Lycan, he seemed to...*like* it... Grace groaned in exasperation. She wanted to sleep without seeing his face, wanted to wake up refreshed and her old self, wanted...

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Turning, crouching and swearing in the space of a second, Grace glared at Ralf. "I wish you wouldn't *do* that!" she said through gritted teeth, forgetting for a moment she was talking to an Elder, to a Vampyre so quick he could slit her throat before she had time to blink. Forgetting it all in the face of his shock, born from being frightened.

Ralf, however, just smiled. "I thought you might have heard me. You usually do. Your door was locked, after all."

"Usually I do," Grace replied, her voice shaking slightly.

"I see." He looked around the room slowly, then sat in the armchair. "So? Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About whatever has you so distracted. About why you haven't slept probably for the last four days, and even a couple of days before that you weren't yourself. And about why you decided to break another chair." Ralf paused. "Would you like me to get that splinter out of your finger as well?"

Grace shook her head slightly as she sat down on the edge of her bed. She didn't bother to ask why Ralf was paying such close attention to her movements, though the thought bothered her slightly, or how he knew she had a splinter in her finger. But then, as she thought about it, the evidence of a destroyed chair on the floor was probably a dead give-away.

"It's nothing," Grace replied eventually, hoping her offhand tone would fool Ralf, if only for a second. It was a futile hope, but at least it brought her a slight reprieve. She didn't to simply blurt the truth out to the Elder; even under normal circumstances, if such a thing existed, it would unsettle him greatly.

Ralf continued to look at her, but said nothing. It was almost as though he was trying to communicate silently, though what he was trying to share was a mystery. Even spoken words could be interpreted different ways, but expressions were something else entirely. Finally, the silence was broken, but not by the words Grace was expecting.

"Do you know why we were at war with the Lycans?" Ralf asked, turning to look out of the window.

"I believe it was some misdeed on their part," Grace replied somewhat carefully.

The Elder smiled. "And even if it was our fault, would we freely admit to it? Of course not. The fact of the matter is we don't know who started it, and we don't want to know. We say it was their fault, they will say it is ours. There have been other wars between our two races, of course, but this one will be the last. I will make very sure of that. We've fought long enough; it's time we started talking and listening to one another."

"I understand that was why you created the unit you put me in charge of," Grace said, trying not to frown. "Not to talk with the Lycans, but to make sure no Vampyre starts the war again. But what does this have to do with my...distraction? Or is there something *you* want to share with *me*?"

Ralf laughed. "Grace, my dear friend, there are so many things I would like to tell you, but knowing you, you just wouldn't listen to me, thinking that you know best." He held his hand up. "That isn't a criticism, just a simple statement of fact. I know you. I could tell you what will guarantee your happiness, and what will cause you a great deal of pain. I could tell you the mistakes you'll make, in an attempt to shield you, but you would just go ahead and make them anyway. It's the only way we learn." The Elder smiled gently. But there is something important I want to share with you, so I need you to listen."

Grace leant forwards slightly, not only hearing the urgency in Ralf's voice but sensing it in his posture. "Go on."

"As time progresses, over the weeks, months and even years, you'll hear a great deal about the Lycans, stories, myths, legends, and the truth. There will be a lot to take in, and you'll hear a lot about their bad traits, but remember this: not all Lycans are bad. Just like not all Vampyres are good and perfect, though we pretend to be. I think that, for the most part, Lycans are just like us, or even the humans, but evil deeds will always outshine the good ones." Ralf stood up and began to pace slowly. "There will be misunderstandings between the two races, which will lead to negative emotions and the immediate call for bloodshed. No matter the reason, this must *not* be allowed to happen. *You* must not allow this to happen."

Grace blinked incredulously. "Me?" She had been so caught up in a sense of deja vu as Ralf had been speaking that she had lost track of what he was actually saying. She was certain they had gone over similar ground before, and it made her wonder why the Elder was deliberately repeating himself.

"Yes, you." Ralf stopped and sighed. "You're my last hope. Don't ask why, though; I can't tell you, at least not yet. But you have to trust me. Grace, there are many forces at work at the moment, some you cannot know about, that must remain hidden and *not* be uncovered. But then there are other hidden forces which must be discovered. It will be difficult, but I will not allow *anyone* to undermine mine and Thomas' hard work. I just hope you can tell the difference between those forces that must be left alone and those that must be stopped."

"What if I can't?" Even though she already knew the answer, Grace couldn't help but ask.

Ralf's expression was sorrowful, but his eyes were hard, and once again the exponent was taken aback by the raw power the Vampyre exuded. "You wouldn't live long enough to work out exactly where you went wrong, or to regret the decision you made that led you to that point." He sat back down and focussed on his companion's face. "Grace, you *must* trust me. I know it's difficult, even with me, but it's what I need you to do."

"Alright."

The Elder looked surprised. "That's it? No inquisition? No questions?"

"Would you answer them?" Grace countered.

"Probably not."

"There you go."

Ralf smiled. "Now I suggest you get some sleep, and try not to break any more furniture. Oh, one thing first: your hand, please."

As soon as he had uttered the words, Grace felt herself growing sleepy, but she held her hand out obediently. Ralf took a needle from the cuff of his shirt and proceeded to remove the splinter from her finger, although Grace was dead to the world before he had completed his task. He laid her on the bed, brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face, and waited until the frown lines on her forehead had disappeared.

"One day you may find yourself surprised, Grace," Ralf said softly. "You may even begin to like the Lycans, or even become friends with one. If Thomas and I can manage it, I'm certain you can as well. Good night."

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Ralf had made many assumptions about Grace over the centuries and most, if not all, have proved to be correct, but that evening, his assumption Grace didn't hear his parting words, or that she was unaware of his tender actions, was made in error. The exponent had indeed been sleeping, but as soon as she woke up, her subconscious told her she had missed something important while slumbering. It took Grace a surprising amount of time to clear the fog from her head, sleep not easy to escape from now she had found it, and she would have remained in bed had it not bee for the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Leisurely she showered, trying not to notice the mould in the bathroom, and dressed before wandering to the kitchen in search of a soothing cup of tea and something to eat. As she started to eat, Grace felt as though the last six days hadn't happened, like it was all a dream or nightmare; she found herself focussing better, her appetite had returned from its vacation, and she felt refreshed after a few hours of sleep. Once her plate was empty, Grace sat back, her hands wrapped around her cup, and thought back over the conversation with Ralf. It was obvious to her that the Elder had been trying to tell her something, but precisely *what* still escaped her. The more she thought about it, the more the answer eluded her, but she knew for certain that Ralf was hiding *something*, and even though she had been almost warned off, on pain of death, Grace knew she wouldn't be able to leave the problem alone now. She had been charged with not only the well-being of all the Vampyres in the coven, and making sure that no Vampyre tried to start a war with the Lycans, or cause trouble of any kind. To Grace, that meant the Elder as well; it *had* to include everyone, otherwise they would be setting a dangerous precedent. As she drained her cup, Grace knew she was setting herself a dangerous, almost impossible task, but she had made the decision and was now determined to follow it through. The only question that remained was whether to involve her team or not...

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In another part of the Hall, another Vampyre was also involved in some heavy, deep thinking, though in a different way to Grace: they were thinking about how to protect the coven as a whole, but their answer involved a lot of fighting and bloodshed; it was necessary to the cause. And after listening to the conversation between Grace and Ralf, after hearing Ralf speaking so lightly of the Lycans, even suggesting he was 'friends' with their Elder, Thomas... It was obscene, unheard of that the two males should even be on such civil speaking terms, let alone being...friends. No, such talk could not be allowed, not even from the Elder. The Vampyre began pacing. They knew what they were contemplating would earn them the wrath of the entire coven if they were to be found out, though some Vampyres may thank them. Not that the danger was important. There was a way around every problem, if one took the time to look, and this Vampyre knew the exact answer to the problem. The Lycans were, after all, useful for some things. Not many, though...

TBC


	7. Seventh Hour

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"Thought you were going to sleep for the rest of the week."

Boyd spluttered into his coffee and turned around to glare at Spencer. "I thought you didn't know how to creep."

Spencer looked surprised. "I don't. I made enough noise to wake the dead, which is probably why I could never sneak up on the Vampyres very well."

"Vampyres aren't dead," Boyd corrected him.

"No, but they're not exactly alive either, if you look up the definition of 'alive'," Spencer replied, pouring himself a coffee. "But that's beside the point. I wasn't even trying to be quiet, but you were well and truly lost in thought. Want to share?"

Boyd opened his mouth to automatically say 'no', but he caught himself at the last minute. "Let's take a walk," he said abruptly, standing and striding out of the kitchen.

Spencer had the sense to stay quiet, though his silence was driven more by curiosity than good manners. He had come to learn that Boyd never did anything without a good reason, although sometimes the reason was hidden from the younger Lycan. But the silver-haired Lycan had been acting oddly for days now, almost a week, a long time for one who was usually fairly consistent.

"All I have to go on is a hunch," Boyd said quietly once they were outside. The grounds of the den were quite spacious and wooded, and though there was plenty of hiding places, anyone trying to sneak up on them or eavesdrop on their conversation would be sniffed out in fairly quick order.

"They're usually pretty good," Spencer replied with a smile.

Boyd didn't return it and the dark-skinned Lycan knew it was serious. "That's the word, Spence. Usually. I have been wrong before; this could be one of those times."

"Go on."

"This deal Thomas made with the Vampyres. I'm not sure about it. At first, I was relieved, like most of us, I think. But now..."

"What's happened to change your mind?" Spencer asked.

Quickly Boyd recounted the earlier conversation he'd had with the Lycan Elder; no frills, no embellishments, just the cold, hard facts. "It may sound like nothing to you..."

Spencer shook it head. "It doesn't sound like 'nothing' at all. In fact, it sounds like a whole lot of 'something'. Question is, what do we do about?"

Now Boyd grinned, making him look almost feral. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this..."

"We need to watch Thomas," the silver-haired Lycan replied, suddenly serious again. "I don't think for one minute that he would betray his own but something about the way he talks about the Vampyres make me very suspicious. If they're controlling him somehow..."

"Boyd, wait a minute." Spencer held his hand up. "Don't you think that the Vampyres would think the same thing about us?" he asked carefully.

"Assuming they had the same conversation with their Elder, which is highly unlikely, Spence."

"But even so, what you're suggesting is the exact mindset we're trying to change," he continued relentlessly. "I know you, Boyd. You've never exactly been a lover of the Vampyres, but you've never been a hater either. Where is this coming from?"

Boyd ran his hand through his hair and started pacing. "I told you, it's just a hunch. I think someone is trying to start the war again, or they will try to very soon, and I can't help thinking Thomas is involved somehow."

Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Do you really trust him?"

"Spence!"

"It's just a question because for someone who professes to, you're acting like you don't."

Boyd stopped in front of the younger Lycan, his expression grave, his eyes boring into Spencer's. "Thomas is the oldest living Lycan," he said, his voice a low gravelly whisper. "For anyone to question his integrity...it would be akin to treason, an act that would get the Lycan killed instantly."

"As would spying on him, yet that's exactly what you're suggesting," Spencer replied, standing his ground. "And I want to know why."

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because you've trusted me so far, it seems stupid to stop now," he snapped. "What aren't you telling me?"

"That Thomas all but told me to go and make friends with the Vampyres." He almost blurted out the truth about the mysterious blonde Vampyre, but he needed to know how much his companion could be trusted.

Spencer stared at Boyd. "Why would he do that?"

The silver-haired Lycan's answering grin was grim. "That's what I want to find out. So, what'll it be, Spence?"

The dark-skinned Lycan took several deep breaths as he checked their surroundings. "Alright, I'm in."

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"Grace, you're awake."

Grace turned around, surprised. "I never heard you."

Mel smiled. "I tried to make enough noise not to startle you, but obviously it didn't work. You seem miles away. Want to talk about it?"

Grace opened her mouth to automatically say 'no', but she caught herself just in time. Instead, she said, "Let's take a walk," in a mild voice, the smile she didn't show implicit in her tone.

Mel was silent as they made their way through the corridors of the Hall, curious as to Grace's behaviour. While the exponent was by no means a lover of the indoors, for her to suggest a walk on a whim like this was unusual. And she had been acting oddly for almost a week now, which was highly irregular for one so disciplined.

"I'm telling you this because I trust you," Grace said quietly once they were outside. The grounds of the Hall were as shabby as the inside and there were no places for anyone to hide and eavesdrop, which made it the perfect place to hold a conversation of this magnitude.

"I'm listening."

"I only have a gut feeling to work with."

Mel smiled. "And they are usually fairly good."

Grace didn't return the smile and the younger Vampyre knew things were serious. "That's the word. Usually. I have been wrong before, Mel; this could be another of those times."

"Go on."

"There is something about this...pacification pact with the Lycans that just doesn't sit right with me."

"You were all in agreement with it at first. What's happened to change your mind?" Mel asked.

Grace glanced around and then quickly recounted her conversation with Ralf, giving her companion the bare bones of the situation. "It may sound like nothing to you..."

"It sounds like something," Mel disagreed. "But if it is a 'something', what can we do about it?"

Grace smirked. "I'm glad you said that."

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this..."

"We need to watch Ralf."

Mel stared at her in shock. "Are you serious?"

The older Vampyre nodded. "I don't believe for a minute that he would betray his own kind, but there's something about the way he talks about the Lycans that makes me uneasy. If they are somehow controlling him..."

"Grace, wait a minute," Mel said, holding her hand up. "I know you have excellent feelings for these kinds of things, but this is Ralf we're talking about. Besides, don't you think that the Lycans would think the same about us? Don't get me wrong, some of them I could still quite happily kill, but..."

"Assuming they had a similar conversation with their Elder, which I doubt very much, Mel," Grace replied, ignoring the last comment.

But Mel wasn't about to give up so easily. "Grace, what you're suggesting is exactly the kind of mindset we're supposed to help change. I know you, you've never liked nor hated the Lycans, so where is this dislike coming from?"

Grace looked away, unable to meet her friend's gaze. "As I said, it's only a hunch. I think someone will try to start the war again very soon, and I cannot help but think that Ralf is involved somehow, or will be."

"Do you trust him?" Mel asked bluntly.

"Of course I do!"

"Somehow I'm not too sure because although you say you do, you're acting a lot like you don't."

Grace turned, her blue eyes blazing, and when she spoke, her voice was like a whisper of steel wind. "Ralf is the oldest living Vampyre, and anyone questioning his honour would be sentenced to death immediately. It's like an act of treason."

"As is spying on him, but that's what you're suggesting," Mel continued relentlessly. "And I want to know why."

"I don't have to tell you."

"You've trusted me so far, why would you stop now?" she retorted. "What aren't you tell me?"

For a split second, Grace almost cracked. She almost blurted out the truth about the silver-haired Lycan, but she wasn't sure if Mel could be trusted with that information just yet. "Ralf all but told me to go and make friends with the Lycans," she said quietly instead.

Mel managed an impressive goldfish impression for several seconds as her jaw worked up and down silently. "Why would he do that?" she asked eventually.

Grace smiled, once more all business. "That's what I want to find out. But I'm going to need your help."

The younger Vampyre looked around for a moment, then grinned back. "Count me in."

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He should have been asleep, he knew it well, but even an hour after midnight, he was still wide awake, thinking about things that really weren't his concern, but he had made them so. Already he was starting to regret his decision. Already things were starting to move quickly, faster than he could have imagined. He had to make sure he was ready, when the time was right. It was crucial.

In another part of London, far closer than either of them could imagine, she was also walking the streets, her mind full of so many conflicting thoughts. She had only been awake a few hours but in that time, so much had happened and she was still trying to process it all. She had to make sure she was ready, when the time was right. It was crucial.

And so when she saw him, she froze, caught completely unawares. They were never meant to meet like this, not in so public a place. It wasn't done, and it wasn't fair. But he had seen her too, there was no denying that, no escaping now. They simply stared at each other, completely oblivious to everything around them, to the people bustling through the streets, despite the lateness of the hour. And then, completely unorthodoxly, he began to move towards her, his steps slow and measured. She couldn't help but wonder what she wanted, now of all times. They had interacted before, but this seemed different to her, much different, and it frightened her. It was standing on the edge of a chasm off balance, not knowing whether one would fall in or fall back. He was almost at her feet, almost too close for comfort, and fire blazed from her core, burning her from the inside out, and she had no idea, *couldn't* know, that he was feeling the same. But it was too much, she wasn't ready, and with effort, she turned to leave.

Then, suddenly, like an Arctic breeze across her fevered skin, she heard it. Quiet, firm, pleading, commanding.

"Wait."

She was completely helpless and she both hated and liked it, much like the way she felt about him, and slowly, she turned...

TBC


	8. Eighth of a Second

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"We can't see each other."

"What?"

"We can't do this. It has to stop."

"Stop?"

"Yes, stop. The opposite of start."

"I know that!" The exclamation was sharp and loud.

"You don't have to shout, I'm not deaf." The reply was quiet and controlled, the tone firm.

"Sometimes I wonder." That time, the response was dry, bordering on sarcastic, and earned the speaker a glare.

"People will start to get suspicious."

"Who?"

"You know who."

The taller of the pair nodded. "I take it you spoke to...?"

"I did," the other cut them off before they could finish their sentence.

"And?"

"Did you?" was the countered question.

This time, it was the shorter of the who nodded. "But I don't know if they can be trusted or not."

"Now you're having doubts?"

"A little. Aren't you?" A chuckle. "Is there something amusing?"

"Yes, that *you* are having doubts. If you remember rightly, this was your idea in the first place, an idea I never agreed with."

"I've explained it to you time and time again," the taller said with an exasperated sigh.

"Just because I understand the reasoning behind it doesn't mean I agree with it, or even particularly like it."

The taller chuckled, though it was sardonic-sounding. "And you think I do?"

The smaller one sighed. "I don't want to fight with you, not now."

"You just told me we can't see each other. If you mean that as a permanent thing, then we are most definitely going to fight."

"Don't you see this is for the best? For both of us."

"For you." The statement was made quietly, without recrimination, only understanding.

"Yes, for me," the smaller of the pair admitted. "Can you understand that?"

"Yes."

"It's not that I don't want to. I love you. But this...this is going to be hard enough."

The taller one sighed tiredly. "I know, I know. I wish there was another way, I really do. But there isn't. We've been looking for one for so long and we've come up with nothing. This is the only way."

"I only hope they're up to the job."

"So do I."

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"Wait."

For a fraction of a second – an eighth, to be precise – Grace hesitated before turning to the Lycan she had been thinking about for almost a week. Now that they were within three feet of each other, she wanted to run away, never see him again. Slowly she pivoted on her heel, her eyes downcast, not willing to look up, not willing admit that it was all real.

Boyd was suffering a similar turmoil. He had no idea what made him walk towards her, no clue as to why he called out to her. Yes, he wanted to talk to her, more than he wanted to take the next breath, but it just wasn't *done*, especially not considering the conversations he had recently had with Spencer and Thomas. But now the damage was done. He had spoken and she was waiting. In fact, she was turning towards him and the first thing he saw were those damned eyes of hers...

All Grace could think about were his damned eyes, once she finally mustered enough courage to look up. There were darker than she remembered, and smouldering like embers of a dying fire, and though she knew she shouldn't give him any fuel to relight that fire, she couldn't help but lick her lips, her tongue darting out and slowly running moisture over the sensitive skin.

While he didn't think it would impress her very much – then again, he wasn't so sure – Boyd felt like growling low in his throat when he saw her licking her lips. The one thing he was sure of was that she hadn't done it to be deliberately provocative, but that only served to arouse him even more. But he controlled himself; what he was doing went against every rule he had ever been taught as a Lycan, against every natural instinct he had, and he needed to tread extremely carefully. Aware his chance could slip away at any second, Boyd spoke again.

"I just wanted...to know your name."

Grace shivered at the rich timbre of his voice and she silently cursed her body for betraying her. She wanted to run away, the feeling so intense her legs ached because her muscles were being held so tightly. But she couldn't leave, not without answering his question and hearing the same answer in response.

"Grace," she replied, watching with satisfaction as his eyes darkened to black. Obviously he found her voice just as pleasant to listen to as she did his. "And you are...?"

"Boyd," he said, automatically extending his hand.

Another fraction of a second went by as Grace hesitated, but she quickly, far quicker than she thought she ever would, reached for the proffered limb, her small hand sliding into his larger one, her smooth skin automatically noting every callous on his palm. She tried to swallow past a dry throat as Boyd finally stepped into her personal space, close enough for her to pick up his unique scent, spice, sandalwood and something else which was extremely distinctive. For his part, Boyd was content to study her face, feeling that was safe territory, but everything he saw made him want to back her into the nearest alley and ripping all her clothes off before shagging her into submission. And if the look in Grace's eyes was anything to go by, she would be a most willing participant. But it wasn't that simply; she wasn't human and neither was he. If either of them lost control, became too highly aroused and bit the other... He didn't even want to think of the consequences.

Grace smiled at the silence that had descended. "Now that we know each other's names, what will we talk about?" she asked.

Boyd let go of her hand reluctantly and returned the smile. "The weather, perhaps? I won't be so bold as to ask your age, or your occupation."

"You might be surprised," Grace replied.

"I already am." He looked around. "I realise you don't know me, and have even more reason to mistrust me than ordinarily, but would you like a drink?"

"You want to go somewhere quiet and secluded so that neither of us are disturbed by our...families," Grace said.

Boyd blinked three times in rapid succession but that was the only outward sign of his surprise at her talent. "Exactly."

"I know somewhere. Follow me."

As he fell in step beside her, he found his hand automatically wanting to drift to the small of her back and he was shocked. He could be chivalrous when the occasion demand but it simply wasn't in his nature. He was a warrior, a detective of sorts, not a gentleman. Yet it seemed so right, with Grace. Grace. Even rolling her name around in his head made him smile. And the scent of her... It was enough to drive him completely over the edge. Vanilla, cinnamon and something else very delicate, very unique.

"First of all, let us understand something," Grace said as they sat down at a corner café that had only two tables outside and four inside. Again, Boyd had to fight the unnatural urge to pull her chair out for her.

Instantly he became guarded at her tone. "Go on."

"You're a Lycan. I'm a Vampyre. If we're even seen together talking..."

"You don't like taking risks," he stated with a smirk.

"And you like taking them too much," she snapped back.

His smirk grew wider. "Perfect combination."

"What do you want?"

"I like a woman who's straight to the point." Boyd leant forward on the table. "You know what I want. You seem to have a gift for reading peoples' intentions."

Grace couldn't mask the surprise before it escaped onto her face. "How did you...?"

"It's my job."

"You guessed."

"I was right."

"You still guessed."

"Do you argue with everyone you meet?" Boyd asked.

"I think you could bring out the argumentative side in a saint," Grace replied dryly.

"That was a low blow."

"Perhaps. But it was the truth."

Boyd sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to know your name, and to...I don't know, talk."

"Do you talk to many people?" Grace asked.

"No, and that's the point! I *wanted* to talk to you. And I want to know why." He sipped his drink. "And why you wanted to talk to me. You could have walked away, reported me to your Elder. But you didn't. Why?"

Grace smiled. "I think *you* should have reported *me*. After all, I'm on your turf."

Boyd sighed noisily. "I'm not going to argue about this, surprisingly enough. Why don't we just say we met in the middle?"

"About the only time we probably ever will."

At that, he grinned, making him look far younger than his years. "I'll drink to that."

"But we have to be careful. We cannot be seen."

"I know."

Grace drained her water and stood. "I have to go."

"What? That's it?" Boyd asked, not rising.

"Which part of 'Vampyres', 'Lycans' and 'enemies' don't you understand? We cannot be seen together. A few moments is all either of us can afford. For now, at least," she added in a voice so quiet, he almost didn't hear her.

"You want to see me again."

"I do, though I have no idea why."

"Are you going to answer my question."

Grace sighed. "I have no answer, Boyd, just like you don't. I stayed because it felt right. And I would like to see you again because it feels right. For now, that's all I can say."

Boyd stood up. "Then for now, Grace, that'll have to do."

They shook hands again briefly and when they let go, Grace said, "Next time, you can pick the place and I'll buy the drinks," before disappearing into the night, giving Boyd a half a minute to realise he had been left with the bill. But for some reason, that realisation made him smile.

TBC


	9. Ninth Memory

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*Blazing sun, hotter than before in memory, burnt in the crystal clear sky, the blue an impossible colour and the few scattered clouds resembling wave-patterned sand on a beach. It was a golden time, not only in context of the weather, but life in general was extremely rich. Everything was laid clear, the path in front undeniable, no chance of deviation, nor was one wanted...

Sudden pain lancing every sense, every single pore; every stretch of skin, muscle, sinew and bone ached with as previously unknown agony. Continuing to breath was an excruciating experience; attempting to scream wasn't even an option. And then suddenly, like a candle flame being extinguished in a slight breeze, it was all over...*

Awaking with a start, bathed in sweat which glistened like jewels on skin in the light, the creature shivered for a moment, trying to dislodge the unwanted memory. Where they were coming from was a mystery; they certainly weren't owned by the one experiencing them. And the one experiencing them would give anything to pass them on...

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The hooded figure stood quietly, patiently waiting the arrival of their contact. It seemed odd that such a calm façade should be put up when the topic of conversation was likely to cause tidal waves. But it was necessary. They had seen what they were up against and suddenly, the goal didn't seem as worthwhile as it had done at the start. And, if the hooded figure was honest with themselves, they were scared. She knew their opponent well...extremely well, and that only made her wonder why she had agreed to such an insane plan in the first place.

"We can't see each other," she whispered quietly.

"What?"

The voice made her jump, so wrapped up in her thoughts she had been that she hadn't heard the approach of her contact. "Nothing."

"It sounded like something."

She sighed. "I was practising." She turned. "I said we can't see each other."

"Any more? I know."

"What do you mean, you know?"

Her contact folded her arms across her chest. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I don't think it's possible, what we planned."

Frankie smiled. "Surprisingly enough, I agree. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought it was possible, but I was wrong. I mean, I knew it wouldn't be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but now I know it's going to be *impossible*."

Jackie nodded. "I know what you mean. I don't know what's changed over the last five weeks, but something has. Grace and her team seem to be working wonders with our coven." The words were spoken with disdain, even disgust.

"Boyd's doing much the same with our pack, though probably in a much more heavy handed way." Frankie shook her head. "As much as I'd like to see him hanging, I won't cross him. And I don't think any others will join us. I've spoken to as many as I dare, but no one seems interested. I can't say too much or Boyd will find out."

"The Vampyres seem much the same. They would rather grumble about the state of things than actually *do* something to change them," Jackie replied.

"And we'll be just the same," Frankie told her firmly. "Because I like living. I've realised that over the last month, ever since peace was forced upon us."

Jackie stared off into the distance for a while, recalling how her unusual acquaintance with the Lycan had come about. It was just before the war had ended and Frankie had been out scouting for food, mostly people who wouldn't be missed, though occasionally she deliberately picked someone with a family or a devoted spouse. She had been warned about her mephistophelian behaviour many times before, but never did she pay any attention, and that night was no different. It mattered not that the Lycans didn't need food, or that it was dangerous for Lycans to be out unless in a hunting pack; Frankie did it just to piss Boyd off. She loved to see him get riled, and the angrier he got, the hotter she was for him. It didn't matter that he didn't want her; she knew she would make him see sense in the end. With that thought in mind, she had rounded a corner to see two men attacking a woman, and without thinking twice, Frankie leapt in to defend the victim, killing both attackers within a matter of a few moments, before turning to the woman with the intent of making her food as well, all reason lost in the red haze of blood-taste. But something soon cut through the haze; a smell that identified the woman as foe, not friend or even food, and with that realisation Frankie snapped right out of her bloodlust.

*"You're a Vampyre?" she had said incredulously.

Jackie straightened her clothes and bared her teeth at the other room. "I didn't need your assistance,* Lycan."

*Her tone didn't faze Frankie in the slightest. If anything, it made the situation all the more amusing to the Lycan. "It looked to me as though you did." She narrowed her eyes a little. "What are you afraid of?"

"Who said I was afraid of anything?" Jackie snapped back.

Frankie laughed. "It's written all over your face.*

To Jackie's great surprise, she had told the Lycan everything, of how she felt constantly ignored, her words unheeded by everyone, all of her fellow Vampyres listening to Grace about simply everything. Like Grace was so wonderful, Jackie had said. Like she was so perfect, so knowledgeable. Even now, recalling those words, the Vampyre felt the bitterness on her tongue, felt it running through her veins. She had always been careful to hide her feelings, secreting them even from Grace, a testament to the fact that the exponent wasn't as wonderful as everyone deemed her to be. But she had worked hard at gaining Grace's trust, making sure she was chosen for positions of importance that would allow her to monitor the mood of the coven, and while even now there was still unrest amongst the Vampyres, none of them would go up against Grace and her team.

What had shocked Jackie more was when Frankie suggested that the two of them work together. She explained about Boyd, about how he had turned her and led her on, then cast her aside when she wanted more from him. She wanted to ruin him completely, make him such an outcast that he would either have to live in exile for the rest of his life, or be killed. And then peace was forced upon the two races, which only served their plans. Frankie suggested to Jackie that they restart the war, but that the fighting would be controlled by the two of them. Grace would be exposed as a fraud, thanks to Jackie's well placed cohorts, and Boyd would be ruined, thanks to Frankie's. Only it hadn't worked like that. No one wanted to go against the Vampyre exponent and the Lycan tec, and now Frankie was having second thoughts.

"But we don't have to be," Jackie said in a quiet voice.

Frankie jumped, as the Vampyre had been silent for so long and she had been wrapped up in her own thoughts. She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment she had changed her mind about Boyd, but it had happened recently. Perhaps it was the way he had been working tirelessly to straighten their pack out, with an unwavering loyalty to Thomas that was almost disturbing; something akin to respect had started to creep into her view of Boyd, and Frankie found that disturbing. And she had discovered that she really wasn't brave enough to cross him.

"Don't have to be what?" she asked.

"Don't have to be like the others, sitting back and complaining whilst not doing anything about the problem"

Frankie stared incredulously at her. "Did you suddenly forget the conversation we just had? You were agreeing with me a minute ago! What made you change your mind?"

"You seem to have given up on revenge," Jackie snarled at her. "But I haven't."

Frankie held the woman's gaze unwaveringly. "Fair enough. But whatever you have planned against Grace, I don't want any part of it. And don't even *think* about trying to bring ruin on my pack because we *will* destroy you."

"Don't threaten me," the Vampyre snapped.

"I'm not, I'm warning you."

"You wouldn't run to Boyd. He'd kill you if you told him the truth."

Frankie shrugged. "Perhaps. But I've come to realise that the well-being of my pack is more important than a personal vendetta. One day Boyd and I will have a reckoning; it's written in the sands of time, in the blood running through our veins. He turned me; his blood is in me. It's inevitable. But not like this, and not now."

"You're a coward."

The words escaped her mouth before her brain had chance to register what was happening, and Jackie instantly recoiled from the attack she expected. It never came. She looked up to see Frankie staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"You're pathetic. I mean it, *Vampyre*, don't even *think* about trying to raise hell about us. You'll lose." With that, the Lycan strode off into the night.

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Two figures stood in the shadows, opposite from one another but together, silently watching the exchange, listening to every word spoken. They saw the Lycan leave, and the shorter of the pair caught the other's eye. A half nod, and they moved out to follow. The taller counted to five before stepping out.

"Nice night."

Jackie swore and spun around. "What are you *doing* here?" she asked, angry at being startled but more worried about having almost been caught.

"Just taking a walk. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "What do you want?"

"Ah, the direct approach. I like it. Fair enough. I saw that meeting, heard the conversation."

Jackie's already pale face lost even more colour.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. In fact, I wanted to tell you that I agree with you, and that I'm willing to take action. That is if you're still disposed towards violence and revenge."

Jackie stared for a moment. "Do you have a plan?"

"Yes. Are you interested?"

She didn't even hesitate before nodding. "What can I do to help?"

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Frankie was breathing hard as she walked off. She didn't understand why Jackie had riled her so with her continued talk of creating discordance, and she understood her shift in feelings towards Boyd even less. Not that it mattered any more. The decision was made and that was an end to the subject.

"Frankie! What a surprise seeing you here."

The Lycan repressed a shudder at the voice and forced herself to smile. "Yeah, what a surprise. In fact, in all of this expanse we lovingly call London, I'm surprised to see you at all. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were following me."

"What an absurd notion."

"Perhaps, but then we live in absurd times," Frankie replied.

"We do."

"Did you want something in particular?" she asked, none too graciously.

"Actually, I did. I heard you talking to the Vampyre, and I know you said that you're now a loyal Lycan, but we both know that's not true. So I'm offering you a way to make your dreams come true."

Frankie snarled loudly. "You know *nothing* of my dreams. And I actually meant every word I said."

"Really? Now that is a shame."

"Why? Are you going to kill me now"

A laugh. "Why would I do that? You don't know anything. Besides, if you tell anyone, they won't believe you. Your past actions have seen to that."

"This is a pointless conversation," Frankie said. "Whatever your offer is, I'm not interested. Not now, not ever."

"'Ever' is an awfully long time, but I can see you're in no mood to talk. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Unfortunately, I do," Frankie replied before walking off.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tec' is short for detective. I felt it worked better, like 'exponent' instead of 'profiler'. I know I've used detective before, but from now on, it'll be 'tec'.


	10. Tenth Try

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They had seen each other twice more since that first initial meeting. They spent no longer than five minutes together, but that short time was enough to worry them both. There was something going on between them that neither could put a finger on, yet it seemed so natural that neither wanted to question it too much. But in just a week, they had come so far, talking about so many different topics without actually divulging secrets from either the coven or the pack, and during their last meeting, they had done nothing but argue, parting on heated words, causing them both to storm away from each other. It was the start of something beautiful.

Yet despite that, Boyd found he had never been happier, and his constantly mild-mannered ways were beginning to unnerve his fellow Lycans. Even Spencer, who knew Boyd better than most, was rattled by his behaviour. One day, after a meeting, the dark-skinned Lycan lingered.

"Alright, what's going on?" he asked bluntly.

Boyd blinked only once as he stared at the younger Lycan. "What do you mean?"

"You've been acting strangely all week and you're making everyone incredibly nervous. Now you told me Thomas charged you with making sure that no one causes any kind of trouble, to look for unusual behaviour." Spencer held Boyd's gaze. "And your behaviour certainly qualifies as unusual."

"If you have an accusation to make, make it," the older Lycan said, his voice low.

"I don't have an accusation to make, Boyd, I'm just trying to understand all of this! You...you're not happy. You're never happy."

"Well I'm sorry that me being anything other than my usual cranky self bothers you," Boyd snapped. "But if you're waiting for an explanation, you'll be waiting for a hell of a long time."

Spencer sighed. "Just promise me it isn't going to harm the pack. I don't want to know any details. In fact, something tells me it's better if I don't ask. But promise me that and I'll let the subject drop."

"Do you really think Thomas would have chosen me for this role if there was any chance of me going astray?" Boyd asked, deliberately avoiding making that promise. Even though he didn't think that his blossoming relationship with Grace would cause any harm to their pack, he found he couldn't lie to Spencer.

"No, I don't," Spencer replied earnestly. "I just... It's a surprise, that's all. But believe me, if our pack is safe, then I'll be the first one to congratulate you on whatever it is that's making you so happy." He smiled. "It's actually a good thing, we've had more lock ups this week than ever."

Boyd nodded. "We just need to be sure they all deserve it."

"Time will tell on that score."

Boyd opened his mouth to reply when his nostrils flared, catching a familiar but unwanted scent. "Your presence isn't required around here," he growled.

Frankie stepped into the room, her face unusually pale, the light pallor heightened by her dark hair. "I wasn't eavesdropping, if that's what you're insinuating," she said quietly.

"So why were you lurking outside?" Spencer asked, his tone only a fraction more civil than Boyd's.

"If I was lurking, you would have smelled me sooner," she replied, still in the same mild tone. She shifted her eyes to Boyd. "We need to talk."

"I'm not interested."

"You haven't heard me out yet. You might change your mind afterwards."

Boyd snarled. "I doubt it because I'm not going to listen to you."

But Frankie didn't blink or move, and Spencer began to feel that maybe there was something more to the female Lycan's request than simple mischief. "I'll wait outside," he said, walking off before Boyd could speak.

The older Lycan's snarl grew, but it was aimed at his darker skinned companion's back. "Alright. One minute. Talk. But I swear, any nonsense..."

"And you'll rip me limb from limb." Frankie nodded once. "I know. Alright. I've heard talk, rumours about some Lycans and Vampyres working together. I don't know what they're planning, but I know that with the people involved, it can't be good."

There were a loud silence as Boyd's expression unfolded into one of utter disdain, his eyes letting her know how unimpressed he was. "That's it?" he asked eventually.

Frankie gritted her teeth together. There was no way she could tell him the truth, not now, perhaps not ever, but she had to warn him about Jackie's mischief. Jackie's, and Linda's. That part Boyd might believe, but how would Frankie explain how she found out, without exposing her own complicity?

"There's more, but you wouldn't believe me," she replied after a while.

Boyd's expression changed fractionally, becoming unreadable. "No. You're right. I wouldn't. Was there anything else?"

"No, nothing."

"Then if you don't mind..." He gestured roughly to the door.

"Right. I get it. No such thing as forgiveness, right?" Frankie asked with a trace of bitterness. "Not that I deserve it." With that, she turned and left.

"So, learn anything interesting?" Spencer asked, taking Frankie's place in front of Boyd.

"Not really." But his tone indicated he was thinking. "She's up to something, Spence, and I want to know what it is. If she was telling the truth...well, it'll be a first. And if she was lying..." He sighed. "I want you to follow her. Discreetly. Find out anything you can."

Spencer nodded once. "I'm on it, boss."

A few moments after he had left, Kat and Felix walked in, their faces grim. "I think we have a serious problem," Felix said with her usual diplomacy.

"For once, it would be nice if you brought me some good news," Boyd replied, feeling his pleasant mood evaporating quickly.

"This is important," Felix told him.

Kat's expression was grim. "We've been following some of the younger Lycans, ones who have just been turned, which means they're more impressionable than the rest of us."

"You are a young Lycan," Boyd pointed out.

"I'm also not stupid," she retorted. "They think war would be a fine thing, a chance to show their prowess, their strength. And so they are being rallied together, but not to fight the Vampyres."

"From what we can gather, a similar thing is happening with the Vampyres," Felix continued. "Of course, it's almost impossible to determine the validity of that report."

*'Perhaps not,'* Boyd thought. *'Perhaps there is way.'* But he kept himself from voicing the words. "If they're not being rallied to fight Vampyres, then why are they being grouped together?"

"That's what's worrying us," Kat replied. "The scarce information we have picked up says that they're planning to murder..." She shuddered, unable to finish the sentence.

"An Elder," Felix completed for her. "They're planning to kill an Elder."

"An Elder?" Boyd asked, his eyes narrow and dark, hard with anger, rather than wide and pale in shock. "That's ambiguous."

"We know. But that's all we've find out so far," Felix replied. "The problem is, we don't know which party is planning to kill which Elder."

*"I've heard talk, rumours about some Lycans and Vampyres working together. I don't know what they're planning, but I know that with the people involved, it can't be good."* Frankie's words echoed in Boyd's ears, but which side was she on? Theirs, or the ones planning the trouble?

He forced himself to focus on Felix and Kat, who were waiting silently for orders. "Then that's what we need to find out. Discreetly. That is our priority. Anything else can wait. Neither Thomas nor Ralf will die because of a Lycan," he said firmly.

"Sir?" Kat asked uncertainly.

"The Vampyres may be many things, even our sworn enemies, but I will not allow their Elder to be killed by one of us. And if any Lycan even thinks about harming Thomas..." Boyd expression darkened like gathering thunder clouds, his eyes turning black with barely repressed anger.

"And what of the Vampyres?" Felix inquired. "What if they decide to kill their own Elder...or ours?"

Boyd stared at for a moment, as if trying to convey that the last two words really should not have been spoken; they were less than necessary, completely redundant. "If we can help it, no Elder will die at all."

Kat looked surprised. "But the Vampyres..."

"The welfare of each being on this earth concerns everybody," Boyd said quietly, before repeating more firmly, "*Everybody.* Yes, the safety of our pack takes priority, but if you find out that Ralf is in danger, you *will* tell me. Is there anything about this that is unclear?"

Kat shook her head quickly. "No, sir."

"Felix?"

"I understand."

Boyd nodded. "Good. Then get to it."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

In the week that followed their first meeting, Grace saw Boyd twice more, no longer than five minutes at a time, but it was enough to worry her. Everything around him felt so right, so natural, even the arguing, which they had down to a fine art after thirty seconds during their last encounter. Even though he riled her, made her blood boil, and the uncontrollably urge to break his neck rise rapidly in her, Grace couldn't help but smile at the memory. It was like a dance they both instinctively knew the moves to, the beat and the rhythm as familiar to them as their own skin. It was wrong, that she knew, but it felt so right.

And although normally mild-mannered and amicable, Grace's extreme good behaviour was starting to worry some of the other Vampyres, especially those closest to her. And it was inevitable that it was Mel who brought it up, in her usual blunt manner, one day after a meeting.

"So, who is he?" the blonde, petite Vampyre asked.

Grace turned and blinked. "Who is who?"

"You've been focussing much better lately. And you've been humming on and off for the past two days, Grace, and you've had a smile almost permanently on your face for the last week," Mel replied, folding her arms. "It must be a guy."

"Can't I just be happy without a reason?"

"Yes, but I think this time, there's a reason." Mel sighed and moved across the room, sitting down in the nearest chair. "Look, I know that you would never betray our coven; Ralf wouldn't have chosen you for this job if he had thought that. But we're supposed to look at everyone who is acting suspiciously or..."

"Differently?" Grace asked sharply.

Mel didn't flinch. "Yes. Differently. And that's exactly how you've been behaving this week." She held a hand up quickly. "I'm not accusing you of anything. In fact, if someone...or something...has made you this happy, that's wonderful. You've been on your own too long. Just promise me that whatever's going on, no harm will come to our coven. I don't want to know any details, unless you want to share them, of course, but promise me that and I'll let the subject drop."

"As you just said, Ralf would not have chosen me if he thought I wasn't up to the task," Grace said quietly, deliberately avoiding making a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. How could she explain her relationship with Boyd, a Lycan, and still maintain that it wasn't harmful to the coven? She knew it wasn't; Grace could tell Boyd's intentions were the same as hers, to protect his pack, but the other Vampyres wouldn't see it that way.

"I know, but..."

"Then you should trust his judgement. I am happy simply because we seem to be making progress. A lot of the Vampyres who have come to us for help adjusting seem to be coping well with the change," Grace replied.

"You haven't helped me...'cope' yet," a low voice said.

Grace shuddered at the poor, leery innuendo and turned to look into Harry's dark eyes. "The only thing that would help you is to remove your head from your body," she remarked dryly.

He grinned, showing all his teeth, and the look in his eyes made her want to run away, a feeling she was unused to. "Strange, you haven't always felt that way. I wonder what made you change?"

"Would you like me to tell Ralf that you've been harassing me again?" Grace asked him politely. "Perhaps he can send you somewhere different this time, somewhere with lots of sun and very little night light..."

"We need to talk," Harry said, his voice turning serious.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested."

Mel was about to intervene when she saw Eve at the doorway, motioning for her to join her. The odd Vampyre's pale face was even whiter, and Mel dreaded to think what news she bared. Quietly, she slipped from the room, unnoticed by Grace and Harry, who were attempting to out stare each other.

"I've heard a rumour, of Vampyres and Lycans working together. I don't know exactly what they're planning, but whatever it is, it can't be good."

"That's it?" Grace asked after a while, her utter disdain for the Vampyre in front of her dripping from every word.

He took a step closer to her. "I might be able to get more information...if..."

"If what?"

He moved even closer, until the stench of him pervaded not only her nostrils but every pore of her skin. "If you would persuade me."

"Is there a problem?"

Grace turned to see Jackie stood in the doorway, her face white with fury. "No, no problem. Harry was just leaving." The exponent's tone of voice made it clear that his presence was no longer wanted at all.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," Harry said as he walked away.

"Check the temperature in proverbial hell first," Grace replied, loud enough for him to hear her, to sense the venom dripping from every word.

"Are you alright?" Jackie asked, her brow creasing in concern.

Grace nodded. "I'm fine. Did you want something?"

Even though her tone was mind, the younger exponent found herself flinching slightly. "Eve has turned up some...interesting information."

"You sound dubious."

"While I don't have your...talent, I do have enough experience to tell when something isn't right," Jackie replied. "And this information...it sounds extremely far-fetched to me."

"Eve, Mel, come in, please," Grace said, her eyes seeking the blonde Vampyre's. "Eve told you." It wasn't a question and she didn't wait for an answer. "What do you think?"

Mel looked in confusion at Jackie. "Do you know what the news is?"

Grace shook her head. "I want to hear your opinion first."

"I see no reason to dismiss it so readily," the blonde Vampyre replied. "I think it bears closer scrutiny. We need to know for sure it is true or not. Dismissing something such as this..." She shivered at the implications.

"Eve, tell me what you know."

"I'm afraid it isn't much," she replied quite seriously, an interesting contrast to her usual flippant, relaxed self. "But what I have found out is worrying. I've been mixing with some of the younger Vampyres, ones who have recently been turned. They want to know all the good night spots and they seem to think I can help them."

"That doesn't surprise me," Jackie remarked dryly.

Eve gave her a flat look. "Whether it's true or not is irrelevant, but it puts me in a perfect position to pick up rumours and idle chitchat. They don't know how to keep their mouths shut like some of the older Vampyres."

"I'm not sure I like the inference," Jackie snapped hotly, her face reddening.

"I wasn't aware I had made one," Eve replied mildly before turning her full attention to Grace. "The younger Vampyres are more impressionable than the rest of us and someone is taking full advantage of that. They're rallying them to start fighting, to show off their strength and prowess. But from what I could gather, they're not being gathered to fight the Lycans."

"It seems that a similar thing is happening with the Lycans, but there's no way to find out whether that's true or not," Mel continued.

*'Perhaps there is,'* Grace thought, but stopped herself from voicing the words. "Who are they being rallied to fight, then, if not the Lycans? Surely not each other!"

"It's a possibility," Mel replied grimly.

"There's something else." Eve took a deep breath. "I think they might planning to kill an Elder. In fact, I'm certain of it."

"An Elder? Which one?" Grace asked, shock and anger mingling together.

"I don't know," Eve replied, spreading her hands helplessly.

Everyone fell silent as Grace began to pace slowly, but Jackie soon broke the silence. "This is nonsense, probably just children's talk. No Elder has ever been assassinated and to even suggest that someone is planning to is sheer folly."

"I agree," Grace said, and Jackie began to smirk, "With Mel. We shouldn't dismiss this information so easily. Find out what you can, but discreetly. I won't have the death of the Lycan Elder hanging over our heads, and I certainly won't allow one of our own to kill Ralf."

"What if the Lycans decide to kill their own Elder?" Mel said. "That's nothing to do with us."

Grace stared at her. "The safety of our coven takes priority, but the well being of every creature on this earth concerns everyone else. Even if Thomas is killed by a Lycan, the other Lycans will swear it was a Vampyre, no matter how big that lie is. And you know if anything happened to Ralf, we would say the same about the Lycans. So we must protect both Elders, if at all possible. Find out as much about this plot as you can, if you do happen to hear anything about Thomas, you will let me know. Understood?" They all nodded. "Good. Off you go. Eve, a moment, please."

"Is there a problem?"

"No. I want you do a job for me."

Eve looked mildly surprised. "Why me? Why not Mel? Or Jackie?"

"Jackie is nowhere near strong enough for this, and while Mel is a very capable young Vampyre, she isn't ready for this either," Grace replied.

"You want me to follow Harry."

"Yes."

"Consider it done."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

When Linda heard Boyd ordering Spencer to follow Frankie, she could have jumped for joy. He was so stupid, though he thought he was so clever. Frankie was being used and she didn't even know it; she was unwittingly helping with the plans she had so vehemently wanted no part of. It was a delicious irony that made Linda salivate. But then she heard Felix and Kat telling Boyd about the plan to assassinate an Elder, a plan no one was supposed to know about. Blast him and his bloodhounds! But the situation wasn't as dire as she first thought, the more she contemplated it. In fact, it could work to her advantage. And now she knew she wasn't being watched, it was even better.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Stella knew if she was caught eavesdropping outside the meeting room for Grace's group, she would receive severe punishment, but she couldn't stay away. Especially not from... She shook her head, not even able to think the other Vampyre's name. The Vampyre who barely knew she existed, never mind that she felt... Though that was the problem, what *did* Stella feel for her? It was useless, pointless and hopeless. Yet still she was there, listening to things she shouldn't have been hearing, and feeling the sense of shock and foreboding surrounding her like a blanket, threatening to choke her. Eve had been charged to follow Harry, but what about Jackie? Stella had seen something she didn't think anyone else had, not even Grace, which surprised her, but it was something that would benefit from closer inspection. And so Stella made it *her* job to follow Jackie, wherever the young exponent went.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"I'm not sure I can do this."

The taller of the pair sighed. "It's too late to back out now."

"Really?" the shorter asked, their voice forceful. "Watch me."

The taller grabbed their arm. "You *knew* this day would come, and you knew it would be soon. We've done nothing but talk about it for the past few months as it is! When this all started – you remember that, don't you? You were there after all..."

"Sarcasm was never your strong point," the other snapped, wrenching their arm free from the steel grip it had found itself in.

"And cowardice was never yours!" the taller retorted. "Do you think I want this? Of course not! What I want..." The tone softened. "...What I want is to retire and disappear...with you. But that isn't possible."

"It has never been possible." The shorter reached up and caressed their companion's cheek. "Well, not for a few centuries, at least." A sigh. "I know, I know, it has to be done because we were both too stupid to concede. And our stupidity almost cost us both of our races."

"What is done, is done. We can't change the past, and we shouldn't try. All we can do is set things right for the future."

"And you're sure this is right?"

"No. But we've been trying to look for other ways for a long time now, and this is still the only answer we've come up with."

"And if you're wrong?"

"That's something only you'll have to worry about. Not me."

"I hate it when you get flippant."

"And I hate it when you spend so much time in denial."

The shorter of the pair sighed. "What I hate...is this. This situation, this life. I hate it all."

The taller reached for their companion and pulled them into an embrace. "I know, I know."

"This is our tenth try at this," the shorter one said dubiously. "How can you be sure that this is the right time?"

"Because I *feel* it's right. Here." They took hold of their companion's hand and placed it on their chest, just over their heart. "You have to trust me."

"I do. We would never have made it this far if I didn't. But trust has nothing to do with this situation."

"I think it does. If you don't trust me, this will never work."

The shorter looked up into the taller's eyes. "I *do* trust you," they said firmly.

The taller bent their head and crashed their lips into their companion's. "Then meet me here again in three days."

"I'll be here," the shorter one whispered as their companion melted into the night.

TBC


	11. Eleventh Meeting

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"You're late."

Grace put on a mild expression as she considered the man before her. "I am never late, which means you must have been early."

"Why can't you just admit...?" Boyd caught himself as he began to retort. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" she asked innocently as she sat down.

Boyd glared at her. "That. Don't play games."

"This isn't a game, this is just me being me and you being you," Grace replied, an edge to her voice.

"I know, I know, and that's the problem."

"Now we have problems?"

Boyd ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just trying to understand...this." He gestured to the space between them.

Grace sighed. "That makes two of us. Look, let's not talk about that, okay? At least for now. Let's just...be."

"I'm not good at that," Boyd said ruefully.

"I know," she replied, smiling.

"And how do you know"

Grace hesitated, unaware her uncertainty was written plainly across her face. "It's my job. My...gift, if you will. I'm the official exponent of the coven."

Boyd raised his eyebrows. "I knew you were important to your people but I didn't realise you were *that* important. That's quite a task you've been assigned."

"I'm the only one who can do the job so well, so really, there was never a choice," she replied.

"I know what you mean."

"And your job is? Apart from ardent warrior."

Boyd raised his eyebrows at her choice of words. "I'm a tec. In fact, you could say I'm *the* tec of the pack."

"Now who has surprised whom," Grace said, nodding slightly, in approval, Boyd hoped.

"I'm good at my job." There wasn't a trace of egoism in his voice as he spoke the words. "So, you can...sense peoples intentions?"

She nodded again, properly this time. "Most of the time."

"Most of the time?" he repeated.

"On occasion the...talent has let me down," Grace admitted, and Boyd could see how difficult it had been for her to be so honest. Without thinking, he reached across the table and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "But the amount of times that has happened in the last four hundred years, I could count on one hand."

"Then you should proud of your work," Boyd told her sincerely, swiping his thumb across the back of her hand once more before sitting back in his chair.

Though she would never admit it, Grace missed the warmth of his touch, making her feel more alive than she could ever remember. "I am, most of the time. I'm sure you're the same. There are good days and bad days."

"And days when you want to scream loudly and kill everyone in your path," Boyd replied with a dry smile, sipping his drink.

"Not too many, I hope." Grace smiled. "But I know what you mean."

"Is that why you agreed to spend more time with me?" he asked after a moment. "Because you sensed my intentions towards you are...well, not exactly noble, but..."

"I sensed you could be trusted. That the safety of your pack is the most important thing to you, which is how it should be." Her smile faded. "Which brings me to a difficult question, but before I ask it, I think I should explain something. I have been assigned as...I suppose you would call it team leader, to a small group of Vampyres. We've been charged with making sure that no one in the coven..."

"Tries to start the war between our two races again," Boyd finished for her, his own expression grim. "I hold the same position in the pack, and we've been assigned the same task. And I'm going to guess that the question you would find difficult to ask is this: do I know anything about anyone trying to do just that, start the war up again? Or, even worse..."

"Kill an Elder." Grace stared at him for a long time, as if trying to ascertain something, and he held her gaze, not glaring, just wearing what he hoped was an open expression. Yes, they both had secrets, and he suspected that between them, they had enough baggage to fill the hauls of several large aeroplanes, but he found he didn't want to hide too much from her.

"What do you know?" he asked after a lengthy silence.

"Not much, only rumours," she replied. "And you?"

They were both now being guarded, neither willing to admit they knew more than the other, if that was indeed the case. But Boyd stood by his realisation from moments ago; he didn't want to hide too much from her. "The rumours are that young Lycans, and young Vampyres, are being rallied together to fight, though whether that's fight themselves or each other, we don't know. And there is that very worrying rumour that someone, or a group, might try to kill an Elder. But we don't know if it's Lycans or Vampyres we should be watching; if it's Thomas or Ralf who is in danger."

"And I can't help you," Grace said, impressed by his honesty. "Because I don't know any more – or any less, for that matter – than you do." She sighed. "Do you remember anything about your life before you were turned?"

The question was so sudden, the shift in conversation so quick, that Boyd could only stare for a moment. "Not much. You?"

"Perhaps."

He grunted. A totally pointless answer that told him everything and nothing at the same time. "The problem is, how do we go about stopping this group, or groups? Just because you and I are willing to be civil to each other doesn't mean we can expect the same amount of cooperation from any of the others."

"It has to be possible, doesn't it?" Grace asked. "Surely there is another Vampyre and another Lycan who could get along so well?"

In Boyd's mind, he knew there was, but that was a secret he certainly wasn't ready to share. "You mean apart from the ones who are planning this mischief?" he inquired, a certain morbid amusement in his voice.

"Well, apart from them," Grace conceded with a smile.

He suddenly dragged his hand over his face, and for a moment the mask he wore dropped, allowing her to see his pain and frustration so clearly. He looked as old as Grace felt and she could barely suppress the chuckle at the irony of that thought; they were both far more alike than either realised or were willing to admit.

"Blood, it's a mess," Boyd said quietly, his deep baritone voice rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest.

Grace nodded in agreement. "So what are we going to do about it?"

He looked at her, eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised. "We?" he repeated.

"Yes, we. After all, we are the only ones cooperating for the good of the coven and your pack, we we've just discovered," Grace said. "So it stands to reason that it should be up to us to work together to stop this nonsense."

Boyd sighed, knowing he was going to say yes anyway, but not willing to give in so easily. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed today," he grumbled, aware as soon as the words left his mouth he had just done exactly what he told himself he wasn't going to do.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Follow Harry, Grace had said, and Eve was discovering quickly she couldn't have been given an easier assignment. The Vampyre was arrogant, believing he was above the law of the coven, despite his lengthy spell away to try and 'correct' his behaviour. He had come back reformed, or so people believed. Eve had never been convinced, even though she put up the front that she thought he was suave and attractive, and the incident three days ago with Grace just proved that she was right. Harry was still ever the egotistical, chauvinistic...in fact, there was no insult great enough that Eve could think of, except to call him a Lycan, and she found that could possibly be offensive to the Lycans. He wasn't even a rat; an amoeba on a rat, perhaps, but even that seemed too kind.

He visited the most disgusting hideouts in London, places Eve wouldn't touch if she was dying and they alone held the means to save her. She was known for her peculiar habits, certainly, and for visiting some of the seedier places around, but even she avoided the ones Harry had been going in. And the people he was mixing with... It was odd, but none of them seemed particularly dangerous or useful. In fact, if she didn't know any better, Eve would think he was leading her a merry dance. But she knew it wasn't possible; she all but had a degree in sneaking, which was one of the reasons Grace chose her for the team.

Unknown to Eve, not too far away from her, there another Vampyre-on-Vampyre following going on. Stella was trailing Jackie, and she was extremely confident that the young exponent was most *definitely* unaware of her stalker. Stella had found herself in a perfect position to watch, as very few people took notice of her. They were curious, as she had only been with the coven for a short number of years, but as she didn't express a wish to mingle with the others, very few people noticed her. Except for Grace, but the coven's main exponent noticed everything. Stella was certain she had sensed the young Vampyre's need to be accepted, and she suspected Grace had also sensed something she couldn't quite put her finger on. If she had asked what that was, Stella could have told her.

Since her arrival at the coven, Stella had been fascinated by Harry. Not because she thought he was gorgeous or charming, but because she'd had first hand experience with him: he was the Vampyre who had turned her, though she suspected no one knew about that, perhaps not even Ralf. And that was the reason Grace didn't trust her. The young Vampyre had followed Harry wherever he went, but carefully; she knew how dangerous he could be. And what she had found out worried her, yet no matter how hard she had tried to tell Grace, she could not find the words, or the opportunity, especially when Jackie, a traitor, was trusted far more than she, Stella, was.

Suddenly Jackie stopped, and Stella froze, willing the young exponent not to see her. And miraculously, Jackie remained oblivious to her presence. Taking a deep breath, Stella concealed herself and waited patiently for something to happen. She didn't have to wait long.

"You're late."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "I had to make sure I wasn't followed," he said in a slick voice.

Jackie recoiled slightly. "And were you?"

"No."

"Is everything in place?"

Harry nodded. "We're ready to proceed tonight. Are you ready?"

"Grace knows something is going on, thanks to your warning, but she still trusts me and she has no idea that it'll be tonight," Jackie replied smugly.

"Good. I've got the material needed to incriminate her," Harry said. "All we have to do is..." He stopped suddenly and whirled, his corner teeth bared, his eyes wild.

Both Eve and Stella, hidden in separate places and unaware of each other's presence, held their breath and forced themselves not to panic. Then a third figure stepped from the shadows. "It's good to know you stared without me," Linda said snidely.

"You're late," Harry retorted. "What do you expect?"

"I expect you to wait for me," Linda told him. "After all, this was my idea.

Harry laughed, though it was a hollow sound. "I think you'll find we all had an input."

Linda looked at Jackie and laughed as well, though hers was a more vindictive sound. "What input has *she* had?"

"Making sure our plans aren't discovered," Jackie snapped back.

"Well, what do you know? It has a backbone after all!" Linda laughed again.

Although Harry would have liked nothing more than to watch the two of them fight it out, although it was obvious who would win, he stepped between them. "We can argue about this later. We don't have much time to complete our objective." He looked at Jackie. "Are you sure she'll be away from the coven for a while?"

Jackie nodded. "Positive. Her...*meeting* will no doubt last at least an hour today."

"Excellent. So, we're all set." He looked then at Linda. "Have you done your part?"

"He'll be away for about the same amount of time, and his lapdog won't be there either, so I'm sure we won't run into much, if any, resistance," she replied.

"In that case, we're almost ready," Harry announced. "We all know what we're supposed to do?"

Linda rolled her eyes. "No, remind me."

Harry bared his fangs at her. "I was just thinking...do we really need your help any more?"

"Don't even bother *thinking* about it," she retorted coolly. "We'll meet again in a few days, once the storm has passed."

Harry turned but Jackie had already disappeared. "I sometimes wonder if she's up to the task." He turned back and found Linda has gone too. "I wonder if they're trying to tell me something."

Stella, having seen Jackie depart and heard all she needed to, sneaked off as well, unnoticed by Eve, who remained unnoticed by Stella. The young Vampyre was determined to find Grace and tell her the truth before it was too late. She didn't know how she was going to manage it, but she was certain she would think of something.

Seeing the other two women leave, Eve decided to follow suit, creeping along the shadows so Harry wouldn't notice. She had to find Grace, tell her about the two Vampyres working with a Lycan, about their despicable plans, and most importantly, Jackie's betrayal. How could Grace have been so blind? Perhaps they should have recruited Stella instead. Even though Eve couldn't quite understand the red-headed Vampyre, and she knew Grace didn't trust her, at that moment she was looking like a much better choice.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to follow people and eavesdrop?" a cold voice said very close to Eve's ear, causing her to stop dead in her tracks.

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Spencer had followed Frankie for the past three days and with each passing hour, he began to think Boyd's judgement had been clouded, just this once. She hadn't done anything suspicious, not put one toe out of line. In fact, she seemed to be trying to prove that what she had told Boyd was true, and Spencer began to develop a grudging admiration for her. It was clear something had happened to her recently, but exactly what it was, Spencer didn't know, and he didn't think he would ever find out.

"What are *you* doing here?"

The sharp voice broke through his thoughts like a rock shattering a mirror. "Erm...walking?" he stuttered uncharacteristically.

Frankie glared at him, then her expression changed to one of shock, then righteous indignation. "You've been following me! *Blood*!" she swore violently, anger flashing in her eyes like lightning.

"Wait... Wait!" Spencer said quickly, holding his hands up, sensing his life might well be in danger.

"Why?" Frankie asked, bearing down on him fast.

"Can you really blame Boyd for wanting you followed?" he countered. "You haven't exactly been his biggest supporter, you know."

"Sarcasm won't save you."

"I was just being honest." Spencer suddenly ran a hand over his short cropped hair. "Blood! If you're not the traitor, then who is?"

"I'll give you one guess," Frankie replied darkly.

"Linda."

"Exactly."

"Do you know what they're planning?"

"Mischief."

Spencer folded his arms. "And exactly how do you know about it?"

Frankie sighed. "I'll tell the truth, but only once."

"Which means...?"

"I'll only talk while Boyd's there as well," Frankie replied.

Spencer stared at her for a few moments, appraising her honesty. "Alright, let's go and find him then."

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The wind whipped mercilessly around the hooded figure, and even though the night was dark, grey storm clouds could be seen building on the horizon. A storm was brewing, on more than one front, and they wrapped their cloak more tightly around their body. Despite knowing what was going to happen, despite knowing it was what *needed* to happen, it was still difficult to accept it all.

The moon broke briefly through the clouds, and the figure winced as the bright light hurt their eyes. But despite the pain, it was a reminder that the night had to end, that darkness could not prevail forever. It was a sign of hope.

He heard no sound as the assassin approached him, heard nothing as the silver blade slid from its sheath. The first indication he had that his life was over was the white hot pain he felt as the knife was plunged between his ribs, piercing his heart. The agony was so exquisite he began to weep with the mixture of pain and pleasure, and as he fell to his knees, his crimson blood staining his clothes like a red explosion, the heavens opened and the clouds started to weep as well, soft rain soaking Thomas' body as it lay on the ground, lifeless.

TBC


	12. Twelfth Twist

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Boyd and Grace talked longer that night than they had before, without thinking of the reprisals their actions would bring if they were caught. They simply enjoyed each others company, talking about their lives in general without divulging anything that would harm either his pack or her coven. Despite what they had said, it was a game, both knew that, and it seemed they both enjoyed playing it. But as they went their separate ways, Boyd caught himself worrying about the task before him. Someone planned to murder an Elder. The sheer scale of the idea alone was terrifying; it had never happened before in the history of the Lycans and the Vampyres. Perhaps it had been contemplated, but never actually executed or even attempted. And now he had been charged with stopping such a thing from happening. What was worse, if anything could be worse, was that he couldn't tell anyone how he obtained his information, his certainty that an assassination attempt was in the making.

Yet at the same time, he felt strong, more than capable of being able to complete the task, especially with Grace by his side. Because that was where he felt she should be; it felt *right*, and he *still* couldn't explain it. He hated things that were without explanation.

"Boyd!"

He turned, his face expressionless as his eyes fell on Spencer, but his mind was a jumble of questions. Had he and Grace been spotted together? Was the younger Lycan about to condemn his elder? Try to blackmail him? Force him into exile? But then his gaze shifted to the Lycan next to Spencer.

"What are you doing with *her*?" he snarled before he could stop himself.

Spencer looked steadily at him. "Listening, which is exactly what you should do."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Boyd barked, his temper flaring.

"Oh, for once, Boyd, give your testosterone a rest and shut up!" Frankie snapped at him. "This is important."

Boyd's cheeks rippled as he flexed the muscles, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "Talk."

Frankie took a deep breath, the sudden realisation of what she was about to do hitting her like a speeding 20 tonne lorry. "Linda is planning to betray the pack. She's been working with at least one Vampyre, Jackie, to cause trouble," she started to explain. "Linda's reason for doing it is to get back at you. She's obsessed with you, with destroying you, and she will do anything to achieve that end. Jackie wants to destroy Grace...I can see the name is familiar to you."

"Why?" Boyd demanded to know, ignoring her statement and Spencer's curious and demanding stare.

"Jackie is jealous." Frankie hesitated briefly. "I think your...friend is in trouble, Boyd."

He glared at her. "What?"

"I mean it, I think you should warn her."

"Who?" Spencer asked, but they both ignored him, each focussed on the other.

"Jackie is a coward, but she is seriously obsessed, worse than Linda, I think," Frankie continued. "Her hatred of Grace is unbelievable; stronger than my hatred for you."

"What made you change your mind?" Boyd inquired.

"I haven't. I would still love to see you burn in hell, but I will admit I have a grudging respect for you now, and in this last week, you've actually been bearable. I guess we have your friend to thank for that."

Spencer sighed impatiently. *"Who?"*

"And...even I'm not brave enough, or stupid enough, to cross you," Frankie finished. "I've thought about it for so long that when I actually had my chance, I realised I couldn't do it."

"But Linda is," Boyd said, voicing it like a question.

"She's isn't stupid, nor is she a coward, but she is certainly a little bit crazed."

Boyd raised his eyebrows. "A little?"

Frankie smiled briefly. "Fine. A lot."

Boyd nodded. "How did you know...?"

"I saw you," Frankie admitted. "I wasn't following you, I swear, it was just a coincidence."

"And you didn't tell..."

"Not a soul."

"Who the hell are you two talking about?" Spencer yelled loudly, causing the other two Lycans to stare at him.

"Spence, it..."

Boyd never got to finish his sentence as a sudden terrible sound filled the air, a piercing, terrifying noise that seemed to rise into the night sky like thick cloud and rain down from above like hard rounds of hail: the howls of hundreds of Lycans in despair. Frankie clutched at her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks as her expression became a grimace, one showing extreme pain.

"Blood," she whispered.

Spencer grabbed her arms to stop her from falling, though he felt as though an elephant had just sat on him, and together they sank to the ground. "It can't be...," he said quietly.

Boyd seemed to be frozen in shock, and for a second, they thought it was possible he didn't know. But then he tipped his head back and his voice joined with the others; angry, hurt, lost, infinitely sad. He did know. Out of them all, he *should* know. In fact, he was the first to know, an odd sensation filling him before he heard the howling, the feeling of foreboding and failing. He did know, as did they all.

Thomas, the Lycan Elder, was dead.

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It was reckless to have spent so long talking, Grace decided as she and Boyd separated, but the rewards were more than worth it. He was a stimulating companion, witty and fiery, and reacting so naturally when she pressed his buttons, even though he knew what she was up to. It was a game, despite what she had said, and she found herself enjoying playing immensely. But overshadowing that joy was the dark shape of fear, fear about the task laid out before her. Someone planned to murder an Elder and she had been charged with stopping that from happening. It was a terrifying thought; no one had ever attempted such a thing before in history, neither the assassination nor the prevention of it. And the worst part was she couldn't tell anyone how she obtained her information, that unwavering certainty that murder was afoot.

But despite all that, Grace felt capable, and strong, ready to face the challenge ahead of her, especially with Boyd at her side. Because that was where she wanted him to say, no matter what the coven or his pack thought, said or dead. She felt fated to be with him.

"Grace!"

The exponent turned to see Eve and Stella rushing towards her, both bloodied and bruised. "What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"We're fine," Eve replied, her usual lackadaisical persona having seemingly melted away to reveal the true person within. "Well, we're not fine as such, but we're not seriously hurt. Harry, on the other hand..."

*"What?"* It was halfway between a shriek and a yell, loud and high-pitched enough for both Vampyres to wince. Grace glared at them. "Explain yourselves *now*!"

"I've been following Harry since his return to the coven," Stella told her.  
"What? Why?"

Eve sighed. "Grace, you're a darling, but this would go a lot quicker if you stopped interrupting!"

The exponent glared for a moment before holding her hands up. "Alright, alright. Talk, and quickly."

Stella looked at Eve, who nodded encouragingly. "You know there is something about me that doesn't seem quite right. I can tell you what that is." She took a deep breath. "Harry is the Vampyre who turned me. No one else knows, not even Elder Ralf, I don't think. But I haven't been following him like some puppy dog; he is an evil creature, not at all reformed by his period of exile. I worried for our coven, so I kept an eye on him. He, of course, only thought I was infatuated with him and never paid me much attention. Then I began to notice something worrying, something no one else seemed to see. Jackie...Jackie hates you, Grace, though she hides it well."

Grace blanched. "You're wrong."

Eve shook her head. "She isn't," she replied. "You told me to follow Harry and I did. Luckily for me, Stella was following Jackie. We both just witnessed a meeting between them and a Lycan. They were discussing their plans, presumably to kill an Elder, though they never actually said that. But it was clear that whatever they are going to do, it will be soon, perhaps even tonight." She sighed. "Jackie is a traitor, Grace. I'm sorry."

"But...why?" the exponent asked.

"Because she is jealous," Stella replied. "I have seen it in her face. She knows you are better than she will ever be, but she thinks that you...what is the word?"

"Flaunt?" Eve suggested.

"As good a word as any," Stella said with a smile. "She thinks it makes you arrogant, narcissistic."

"And so she seeks to incriminate me, ruin me...what?" Grace asked.

Stella shrugged and hung her head. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Eve took hold of her hand. "Don't be sorry. You just saved my life."

"Yes, now explain that," Grace said. "Give me all of my shocks at once then I can get over them quicker."

"When the meeting broke up, I tried to sneak away but Harry saw me. He started to attack me but then Stella appeared out of nowhere."

"I don't know what made me turn back," the red-headed Vampyre admitted. "It was...a feeling, something my senses couldn't ignore."

A possibility occurred to Grace then, both far-fetched and very realistic, but she put it from her mind, for the moment, at least. She had far too much to think about. "And Harry?" Not that she cared one way or another, but if he was dead, that would certainly be one less thing to worry about.

"He's strong," Eve said quietly. "It took both of us to subdue him but he didn't go down without a fight. But we didn't kill him."

"But," Stella added, "He won't be causing us any trouble for a while."

"What did you do to him?" Grace asked curiously.

Eve smirked. "Let's just say that if we celebrated Thanksgiving, we would already have the turkey trussed and ready."

A sudden terrible, terrifying noise filled air and Grace knew instantly what it was. It was the sound of failure. Turning to her two companions, she saw that they two understood what had happened, although their interpretation of the sound was somewhat different: to them, it meant the start of something horrific.

"Grace!" The exponent turned to see Mel hanging out of a car window looking shaken. "You three had better get in, and quick! It isn't safe for us to be outside tonight!"

"You can say that again," Eve murmured wryly as she got into the back with Stella and lit up a cigarette.

"Eve, do you have to...?" Mel started to say and then noticed exactly who was in the car. "Why is she with you?"

"That is an extremely long story," Grace replied, her voice weak and her face pale. "Why were you out?"

"I was looking for you," Mel said as she sped back to the Hall. "Ralf sent me to find you, he said it was urgent."

"Yes," Grace murmured absently. "I'm sure that it is."

Mel glanced briefly at her and upon seeing she would get no answers from her, looked in the rear view mirror at Eve. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

The dark-haired Vampyre cast a glance at Grace and reached the same conclusions that Mel had. "I suppose I don't have a choice. It seems that the Lycan Elder is dead."

"I know that!" the blonde Vampyre snapped. "I meant with you three. Why is *she* with you? And why do you look as though you've just been dropped naked into the middle of the Lycan's den? And it has nothing to do with their Elder's death, either."

"First of all, *she* has a name," Eve replied calmly. "It's Stella. Learn it well because as from now, she is part of our team."

"What?" Mel exclaimed, swerving dramatically in the road.

"Oh please, the news wasn't that dire."

"Perhaps not to you."

"Believe me, this is worse."

Mel glanced at Eve. "Do I need to stop?"

"No, just keep control of yourself." Eve threw her cigarette butt out of the window. "Jackie is a traitor." She quickly recounted the events from earlier in that evening, including Stella's 'parentage'.

"Blood," Mel breathed when her fellow Vampyre had finished speaking.

Eve smiled. "Actually, I think 'shit' would be much more appropriate, because we are in that deep now."

"I think I should drive faster."

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

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*It was like a waking nightmare, a dream during the day, clear as light and insubstantial as air. The sun was blazing down, kissing their skin, its rays as gentle as the lips of the one who lay beside them. Golden was the colour all around; golden sun, golden skin, golden leaves, golden hair. The time was golden in their memory but that memory had been repressed, put away, forgotten. Now it wanted to return, and with their waking eyes, they saw everything as golden. Yet the figure who had lain beside them was missing and it was as though they were missing their heart. And their heart cried out to them to find that one...*the* one. The missing piece to their soul, the logical conclusion to all of their thoughts and feelings...*

It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. They had never experienced such a thing; such memories could not belong to them. The pain of loss was so intense that they wished to pass the memories on; they would have given anything to pass them on to someone else. Yet a small voice in the absolute recesses of their mind told them not to be so sure that the memories were not theirs...

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"You wanted to see me?" Grace said as she entered Ralf's room. She could barely concentrate, barely put one foot in front of the other, the information she had just learnt still being processed by her sluggish mind. Jackie was a traitor to the coven, and she had been under Grace's nose the entire time. It was crushing, to say the least, especially given her earlier discussion with Boyd, about how her talent had rarely let her down. And now it seemed that her unwitting failure was going to bring ruin not only on the Vampyre coven, but on the Lycan pack as well; she knew the loss of Elder Thomas would hit them hard, Boyd especially. The taste of defeat twisted her stomach into nauseous knots, and she knew Ralf was bound to notice her distress and question her about it.

But when he turned, his face was so haggard and grey, his eyes so dead, that Grace forgot her own problems for the briefest of minutes. "Yes. Yes, I did," he replied, his voice hoarse.

She almost asked what was wrong, almost walked up to him to put her hand on his arm to comfort him, to tell him that whatever the problem was, it would be alright. And in a fraction of a second, Grace imagined the impossible, the reason for Ralf's sudden melancholy. But the idea was just that: impossible.

"I assume you have heard the news," Ralf continued.

"About Thomas?" Grace nodded. "Of course."

"And the rumour that a Vampyre is responsible?" he asked, and she nodded again. "I am afraid that it is no rumour."

Grace stared at him, unable to read him, and not for the first time. Did he mean that he was scared it was true, or that he *knew* it was true? "What do you need me to do?"

Unknowingly, unwittingly, she had voiced the question in exactly the correct way to allow Ralf to give her his strange orders. "Firstly, I need you to listen to me. You might feel like interrupting, denying what I am going to tell you, or even defending your actions, but you must stay silent until I have finished."

And it was in that instant Grace realised he *knew*, that no secret could be hidden from the Vampyre Elder, which also meant that he knew who was responsible for Thomas' death. "I understand," she said, her face paling already.

Ralf smiled somewhat sadly. "I can see that you already know what I'm about to say, so there is no point in prolonging the inevitable. I know about you and the Lycan, Boyd. It doesn't matter how I know, all that matters is I do. And I admire your courage and willingness to pursue a relationship with him, despite the problems it will undoubtedly cause amongst our coven and his pack." His smile grew slightly more amused as he saw her expression grow wild over his use of the word 'relationship'. "There are many different types, Grace, you should know that. Perhaps you are just friends; perhaps not even that. Only time will tell...if you are strong enough to try."

"Is that important?" she asked, knowing he implored her not to interrupt but feeling the need to voice the question.

"More than you realise," Ralf replied without hesitation. "But right now, I know for a fact that Boyd is hell bent on destroying every single Vampyre on the planet, single-handedly, no doubt. And that does include me...and you." Grace swallowed, hard. "But you can stop him. And that is what I need you to do. I need you to go to him, go to their den and calm him down."

"And then what?" Grace asked, her body and mind numb, her ears reeling in shock from what she had just heard, especially from the way he had said it, like it was something as simple as a proverbial walk in the park.

Ralf sighed, the sound a forlorn one, as though an unwelcome ending was approaching. "Then I want you to bring him here, to the Hall. I need to talk to him."

TBC


	13. Thirteenth Time Unlucky

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The noise from the den was almost unbearable but when Boyd barged through the doors, unhinging one of them through sheer force, silence descended as quickly as a boulder dropping through water. The other Lycans looked at him expectantly, and with reverence, holding their own anguish in check while they waited to see what he did.

"Who knows what happened?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Kat stepped forward, shaking on the inside, but she held her head high confidently, Felix close to her side. "I found him."

Boyd turned on her, his eyes boring straight through her. "Tell me," he said gritted teeth.

"He wasn't killed here," she started, noting absently how Spencer moved to her side and that surprisingly, Frankie was with him. "There was no blood, and he was...laid carefully, almost...with care. He was...in his room. I went to see him...because he asked to see me. Earlier today. That was the time...of our meeting."

"Did anyone see anything? Or hear anything?" Spencer asked when it became clear that Boyd was incapable of answering.

All the Lycans shook their heads, except for Linda, who stepped forwards. "I know what happened."

Spencer's expression darkened immediately. "We don't need to hear from you!"

Felix and Kat watched Boyd carefully, gauging his reaction, but out of the corner of her mouth, the younger Lycan whispered to Spencer, "What's going on?"

"She's a traitor," Frankie replied for him.

Noticing Kat's shift in focus and the glare she gave Frankie, the dark-skinned Lycan said, "And she's now a friend."

"I know what happened," Linda repeated, moving closer to Boyd.

"Shut up," he said quietly.

"It was a Vampyre," she told him, her voice shaking.

"You *liar*!" Boyd roared, lunging at her. "It was *you*! You traitorous *bitch*!"

She recoiled in genuine fear, backing away quickly from him. "I'm not, I swear I'm telling the truth!"

"Boyd, no!"

The voice was feminine, loud but not overly so, but authoritative, and the silver-haired Lycan stopped inches away from Linda's neck. A strangled silence had descended on the pack gathered there as a lone blonde Vampyre made her way through the throng. For his part, Boyd could only stare in shock.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Perhaps he should have been asking how she got into the den without being ripped to pieces, but if he was honest with himself, he didn't really care. In fact, the part of him that was still lucid and reasonable was glad she was there.

But Grace wasn't about to be perturbed by the situation or the raw anger radiating off Boyd, though she could feel her courage faltering as the stares of the gathered Lycans became more and more intensely vicious. To combat her fear, she focussed on the Lycan in front of her, on her forbidden feelings for him.

"I came for you," she replied, her voice just as low, but calming. "To talk to you, to make you see sense, though I know it's the last thing you want right now."

"Don't use your mind tricks on me!" Boyd roared, but Grace didn't flinch, and Spencer, who had been watching the scene, felt the first flickering of something akin to respect growing for the Vampyre.

"I'm not, I just know you." Close enough now, Grace put both hands on his forearm. "Boyd, listen to me. If you go off the rails over this, you'll give the troublemakers exactly what they're looking for," she whispered, pulling him towards her slightly so she could speak directly into his ear. "You will have your revenge, I promise you, but on the ones who deserve it, not on every Vampyre to walk this earth."

If Grace had known the full extent of the damage her words carried, she would never have made such a vow, but she didn't and the deed was done. Boyd's posture relaxed somewhat, causing the other Lycans to take a step back in a mark of respect, though whether it was to his judgement or her command over him, Spencer didn't know.

"What the hell is going on?" Kat muttered to him.

"Damned if I know," he replied. "But something's going on."

"What do you want from me?" Boyd asked Grace.

"You have to come with me. Ralf wants to see you." There was a pinched expression on her face, her words slightly clipped, and he could see her Elder's command had shocked her. "You can bring a friend, if you like."

Boyd looked at her for a moment longer than he should have done with an audience, then turned to Frankie. "I want you to stay here with Linda, under house arrest. She isn't to leave her room, and no one is to go in and see her. Understood?"

Frankie's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded. "Yes, Boyd."

Spencer's shoulders tensed at the insult, but then Boyd looked at him. "I need you with me, Spence. I don't trust anyone else," he said, and the dark-skinned Lycan's chest swelled with pride. "Kat, you can come along as well. It will be good for you." The young Lycan, on the other hand, looked less than pleased with the arrangements.

Just as Boyd was about to leave, he caught Felix's eyes. She seemed less than happy with what was happening as well, and he remembered what had happened to her family. For a moment he considered asking her to come along and for Kat to stay, knowing Felix was far better at controlling herself than the younger Lycan, but decided against it. There would be a time for her to reconcile her problems but it was not now.

"Felix, stay here with Frankie. I want the both of you to watch Linda," Boyd said, holding her gaze.

She understood what he was saying; while Frankie might be on their side now, but he didn't trust her. Felix, he trusted. "Understood."

"Are we ready?" Grace asked, and Boyd nodded. She then released his arm but boldly slid one of her hands into his. "Then let us go."

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When Kat saw Mel driving the car, her first instinct was to launch herself at the blonde Vampyre, but Spencer, sensing her intentions, put his hand on her arm. "Wait. There may be a time for fighting later, but for now, we need to keep our heads," he said quietly. "I know that is difficult. Believe me, I know. But try."

"You don't know what you're asking," Kat growled.

"Yes, I do," he replied shortly. "So do it."

For her part, Mel was feeling the same way, only there was no one to talk her down, as Grace still had a death grip on Boyd's hand. She had to control herself, and it wasn't easy, especially when it came to the seating arrangements. Boyd and Grace, seemingly inseparable, climbed into the back seat and Spencer, obviously concerned for his superior's well being, sat alongside them. Baring her fangs at him, growling loudly to show her displeasure, Kat slid into the passenger seat.

"This was not my idea," she said sullenly.

Mel looked at her, almost amused. "It wasn't mine either. So perhaps that's something we can agree on."

"It's the only time such a thing will ever happen," Kat told her firmly.

Suddenly Mel realised what they were trying to achieve might actually be possible, if both sides were only willing to try. It was obvious that the Lycan did not like her, and the blonde Vampyre was not overly fond of the Lycans on a good day, but still...perhaps her realisation was the first step into changing perceptions. Then she looked in the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of Spencer for the first time properly, and suddenly she felt a lot more hopeful.

"How far is your...place?" Spencer asked after a few moments.

"It's called the Hall," Mel replied, keeping her eyes on the road. "And you know how far away it is."

Spencer's lips curled into something crossed between a smile and a snarl. "True, but I've never driven there. So...?"

"About fifteen minutes."

"Do you think we can last that long in a confined space without killing each other?" Grace asked in a mild tone.

Kat twisted in her seat to look at the exponent, the feeling of respect welling up unwanted in her. Then she looked at Boyd. "For him, yes. But..."

"We know, if we try anything, you'll kill us," Mel finished for her with a sigh. "You know, we're not actually that different."

Kat snorted. "Yeah. Keep telling yourself that."

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Boyd seemed to come back to himself a little as he entered the Vampyre's Hall, looking around everywhere, seemingly oblivious to the deathly stares he was receiving from the Vampyres gathered there. Two rushed forwards, one dark-haired, one red-headed.

"Grace! You're back," Eve said in obvious relief.

"Yeah, and in one piece. Imagine that," Kat remarked sarcastically. "We can be trusted after all."

Stella glared at her. "That is debatable."

"We didn't murder your leader!" Kat yelled, baring her teeth and lunging at Stella.

"Kat!" Boyd barked, startling everyone with the clarity and steadiness of his voice. "We are their guests. Try to behave, or I *will* leave you here."

"You know the way of command." A voice broke through the silence like shattering ice. "He was right about you. Follow me, and bring your companions as well. Grace, Mel, Eve, Stella, follow us."

Spencer could sense all the Vampyres eyes on him, could almost taste the mixture of their hatred and confusion as the oddly assorted group followed Ralf out of the main area. There was silence as they walked, Boyd and Grace behind the Elder, Spencer and Kat following them, with Stella, Mel and Eve ostensibly bringing up the rear.

Once inside Ralf's room, Mel, Eve and Stella closed the doors and remained stood before them. "Please, sit," the Elder said to the Lycans. Both Spencer and Kat glanced at their boss for confirmation, and only sat when he nodded.

Boyd studied the Vampyre before him carefully for a few moments. He was similar to Thomas in many ways, bringing sharp pains of loss to the fore, but there were enough differences to make Boyd keep his sanity, at least for the moment. Ralf was tall, but shorter than Thomas, thin, with thinning brown hair and brown eyes, his bearing and expression suggesting he would have been more at home in a uniform, but whichever way Boyd looked at it, he had all the markings of a leader.

"Boyd, I'm glad you came," Ralf said, his voice relatively melodic.

"I didn't think I had much choice," he replied quietly.

Ralf looked surprised. "Of course you had a choice. It wasn't an order."

"Perhaps not. But still..."

"If you feel better dealing with this situation defining it as an order, I understand," Ralf said.

Boyd was about to retort hotly when he looked into the Elder's eyes and saw that he did understand. "What did you want to talk to me about."

"Thomas' death." There was a slight catch in his voice that no one seemed to notice.

"Linda said it was a Vampyre," Boyd said, his voice hoarse. Nothing seemed real to him any more, nothing seemed to make sense. Except for Grace's hand in his, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles. Her presence seemed to be a focussing point for him, a centring rock that everything else revolved around.

Ralf looked at him. "She was telling the truth, though how she knew it, I don't know."

"I don't think she did," Boyd replied, not fully registering the words which had just been spoken. "I think it was a plan, between her and some Vampyres, to start the war again. It could have been..." He stopped, horror and rage flashing over his features. "Wait, she was telling the truth? How do you know?"

"Boyd, you must understand. Thomas' death was necessary."

The Lycan stood quickly, relinquishing Grace's hand, his anger flowing from him in waves, permeating the air around them. "Necessary? How can the death of our Elder, of a *friend*, be necessary?"

"You need to give me the chance to explain before you..." Ralf stopped suddenly, his own brain taking a few seconds to catch up with what Boyd had just said, the way he voiced the word 'friend'. "How much do you know?"

Boyd held his gaze, his temper subsiding. The fact that Grace had taken a hold of his hand again was a coincidence not lost on Spencer, who felt his grudging respect for the Vampyre exponent grow. "Tell me who murdered Thomas and I will tell you what I know," Boyd replied. "But you must promise me one thing."

"You want to own the life of the Vampyre responsible for his death," Ralf said.

"Yes."

"Then it seems we have a problem."

Boyd's heart sank. Surely he didn't mean Grace, did he? The Lycan didn't think he could bear that crushing revelation. "What do you mean?"

Ralf sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly before he pulled himself up to his full height, almost visibly drawing his leadership prowess around himself like a blanket. "Because that Vampyre is me."

TBC


	14. Fourteenth Truth

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Several things clicked into place in Grace's mind at once. Ralf had sent Mel to find her, saying he needed to speak to her urgently, and when the exponent arrived, the Elder made it clear it was Thomas' death he wanted to talk about. Yet when he had given Mel her errand, he couldn't have possibly known Thomas was dead...unless he was indeed the assassin. That would also account for his inexplicable aura of sadness, the melancholy he wore like a cloak, the unshed tears in his eyes as he was talking to her.

"But...why?" Grace asked finally, shattered the fragile silence the room, her tone indicating she simply didn't understand any of it and no amount of explaining would ever change that fact.

It seemed that both Spencer and Kat felt the same way, judging from the blood-curdling screams that emanated from their mouths as they launched themselves across the room. *"Stop!"* Boyd roared at the top of his voice.

Kat, more scared of Boyd than she would admit, stopped dead in her tracks, but Spencer, his experience of the elder Lycan tempered by the years he had known him, his judgement completely clouded by his anger, continued on his vengeful journey. With almost reluctance, something that neither Ralf, Eve, or Kat missed, Boyd let go of Grace's hand and stood in Spencer's way. The dark-skinned Lycan only noticed the object obstructing his path when it was far too late to change his course. Boyd's shoulders rippled and he could feel himself begin to change, his muscles swelling as his arm shot out, his fingers curling deftly around Spencer's throat, lifting him clean off the ground. The dark-skinned Lycan swung to a stop, his feet hitting Boyd hard in the kneecaps, but the elder Lycan didn't notice. He could feel himself getting lost in the Lycan, in the change, but a small gasp to one side made him turn his head a fraction.

Grace was staring at him, a hand over her mouth, though whether it was in horror or something else, Boyd couldn't tell. But it didn't matter. He stopped himself mid-change, still tapping into the strength that would allow him to hold Spencer two feet off the ground, but not allowing the animal instinct to take over.

"You will listen to me and you will listen good," he said to his captive, his voice raw and hoarse. "You will behave yourself, do you understand me? You will do it not only because I order you to, but because Thomas would not have wanted Ralf dead. You have to trust me."

Spencer opened his mouth but only strangled noises came out. "I...I...can...," he managed to say between gasps.

"Ah, Boyd? I think you're strangling him," Eve noted mildly.

With a glare that bordered on an eye roll at the extremely pale Vampyre, Boyd slowly lowered Spencer to the ground and released him. The dark-skinned Lycan doubled over, coughing and massaging his throat. Wordlessly, Stella crossed the room, poured a glass of water, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said, surprised. She just half-smiled, shrugged, and resumed her position near the door.

"You were saying?" Boyd asked. Having returned to his human form, he was busy pulling his tattered shirt and suit jacket back around his torso as best he could.

"I was saying that I couldn't breathe," Spencer replied, straightening and looking him in the eye. "But you're right. I should control myself, at least until you give the word. And I do trust you."

"Good."

"Why?" Kat asked suddenly.

Boyd looked at her. "Pardon?"

"Why are we waiting? This...*Vampyre* has just admitted to killing Thomas!"

"Thomas knew he was going to die," Boyd replied, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. "He wanted you to find him, which is why he set the meeting up for when he did. Think about it properly; unless you had done something wrong, why would Thomas want to speak with you?"

Kat opened her mouth, then closed it again, then opened and closed it again without even making a sound. Mel tried not to be amused but couldn't quite stop the corners of her mouth from twitching. "He's right," Grace said quietly. "Ralf, you sent Mel to find me, saying you needed to speak with me urgent. But it was before we found out Thomas had died. The only way you could have known..."

"...Is if you killed him," Stella murmured, though respectfully.

Ralf nodded. "It wasn't what I wanted. Believe me, if there had been any other way at all, I would have chosen it."

"I do believe you," Boyd said sincerely.

Spencer's voice was fraught. "I trust you, Boyd, but I need some answers *now*."

The silver-haired Lycan returned to Grace's side, though didn't reach for her hand again. "Before, Ralf, you asked me how much I knew. I said I would tell you if you promised the life of the Vampyre who killed Thomas to me. That deal still stands."

Grace was the first to her feet, knocking him as she stood. "Do you know what you're asking?" she demanded to know in a loud voice.

Boyd didn't look at her, just kept his eyes on Ralf. "Yes."

"You...animal!" Stella shouted hotly.

"What did you expect, Grace?" Eve asked languidly. "Everyone knows all Lycans are barbarians. Did you really think he would change...for you?"

"I had hoped," the exponent replied quietly.

"What?" Spencer and Kat exclaimed together.

Mel sighed in a long-suffering kind of way. "Oh, use your eyes," she told them, resisting the urge not to roll hers. "Can't you see the way they are together? Yes, it's odd, even a little disturbing, but at the same time, it seems..."

"Right," Ralf finished for her. "And there's a reason for that." He squared his shoulders again and met Boyd's gaze. "I agree to your proposal. My life is now yours to own."

Boyd nodded. "Good. Now sit. All of you." It was a command, delivered in a voice that no one wanted to disobey. "It unfortunately seems we have further to travel together before these bonds of mistrust are truly broken," he said, a sharp note of pain in his voice that made Grace shudder. "You, Vampyres, automatically believe that because I asked for the life of the one who killed Thomas that I was going to kill them." He sighed. "You were right, but..." He held his hand up. "...That was before I knew who had done it. Now I don't, and I realise that even if it had been someone else, killing them wouldn't have made any difference. Thomas is dead, and he would *not* have wanted the war restarted or the Vampyres exterminated because of him. You know this well."

"When you and Frankie were talking," Spencer spoke up. "About...a friend...you meant her, didn't you. Grace."

Boyd nodded again. "I saw Grace for the first time on the night the pacification pact was made public, the night the war ended. I knew what she was, but that didn't stop me from feeling...something. It's that inexplicable tug that you can't explain." His gaze drifted around the room as he spoke and his eyes ended up on Stella. "You know what I mean."

"Oui," she replied simply.

"We have only spoken four times, all in the last week."

Kat looked at Spencer. "That explains one thing at least." He nodded and rolled his eyes at the same time, although he looked as though he had swallowed a lemon.

"Spence, let me put it to you this way: Frankie, Linda, or Grace?" Boyd asked.

"Oh please, is that even a question?" The dark-skinned Lycan ran a hand over his hair. "But she's a *Vampyre*!"

"We're getting nowhere," Mel said, standing up. "I suggest that Boyd tells us the facts and we can discuss the situation after."

"Which is the polite way of saying 'stop interrupting'," Eve added in an amused tone.

Boyd glared at the young blonde Vampyre, who merely smiled and sat back down. "My...relationship, whatever it may be, with Grace is irrelevant, for the moment. Right now we have a more pressing issue." He turned his attention to Ralf. "I have only two commands for you."

"Two?" Ralf asked.

He nodded. "First, be honest with me. Lie and I will kill you."

"And the second?"

"Forgive yourself. Thomas knew you loved him, he trusted you. He wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."

As Ralf closed his eyes to stem the tears that threatened to flow freely, his fists clenched at his sides and he swallowed, the silence louder than the cries that followed.

"WHAT?"

If possible, all five creatures in the room spoke as one, but the one voice Boyd was listening for he didn't hear. Grace sat silent, her eyes fixed on her Elder, her expression indecipherable. "Why?" she asked, repeating the question from earlier, the one she never received an answer to.

"Boyd, sit. Please," Ralf said, sighing. "Firstly, I must ask if you trust the others in this room, because what I have to say cannot be general knowledge...yet."

"With my life," Boyd replied.

Grace hesitated. "I trusted Jackie, I was wrong then..."

"We all make mistakes, Grace," Boyd told her, taking her hand once more. He didn't know why he did it, it just felt natural. "You admitted that to me before. Have you made one in the last century?"

"With Jackie."

"Then you're done for another century." He smiled slightly at her. "Don't wallow in guilt and self-pity. It doesn't become you."

"Yes, I trust them," she told Ralf.

"Good. This information is only passed onto the newly chosen Elders by the ones retiring, so in one generation, it is only ever known to four people," he explained. "There are always two Elders, one Vampyre, one Lycan, chosen for their cunning, their cool, their intellect, and their strength. But an Elder is the same as any other Vampyre, or Lycan, until he receives the Blacklight power, the power that enables us Elders to be stronger and faster than any other creature. It allows us to read the intentions of other's, almost read their thoughts. It brings out different traits, different abilities in each Elder. Thomas was...an incredibly gifted speaker, and a diplomat. That was natural with him, but the Blacklight enhanced it, made it into something more, because when he spoke, people not only listened, they started to *believe*." He stood and began walking around slowly. "When we were chosen and told this news, we believed it because we didn't have a reason not to. When our Elders told us the next part, however, we both almost died on the spot." He smiled at the memory. "It is tradition that each pairing of Elders end up being lovers. That way each side knows that the information they are receiving about the other is true."

It was a minor miracle that no one fainted on the spot. "I didn't actually know about that, before you ask," Boyd admitted. "But it was clear that he cared for you. The way he said your name, the look that appeared in his eyes...I don't think he even knew he was doing it, but it showed."

"And I cared for him, a great deal," Ralf replied. "I implored him to find another way other than his death, especially so soon after the pact..."

"Then *why*?" Grace's tone was becoming impatient as her question went unanswered again and again.

"The only way a new Elder can receive the Blacklight power is when the current Elder dies. Due to the war, though, Thomas and I remained in power far long than we should have," Ralf said, recognising the tone and the implications behind it if he didn't tell her what she wanted to know right that instant. "The standard term for a pair of Elders is two hundred and fifty years. A short time, considering our age spans, but sometimes the Vampyre or Lycan going into the position are usually centuries old to start with. Thomas and I had already been Elders for just over a century when the war started, and with the fighting, there was no chance of choosing a new Elder without breaking tradition."

Stella suddenly spoke up. "You're lying." Then she blushed bright red, an astonishing feat for a creature technically devoid of blood. "I mean...you're not lying, but...you're not telling us everything." She ducked her head. "Sorry."

"No, don't be," Ralf replied, though Boyd could see it was difficult for him. "This is why new leadership is needed. This war has changed everything. There have been wars before, but nothing that has lasted so long, and because of that, factions have risen in both the coven and the pack that want to exterminate the other race, or at the very least keep us both in a constant state of war, bringing about a survival of the fittest situation. It cannot be this way; we *cannot* constantly be at each other's throats." He stopped by the window before continuing in a more conversational tone. "We were never meant to fight this way, you know. Yes, we're meant to fight but more like families do, not mortal enemies. And now the time has come for us to realise that, because the younger generations are starting to regard us differently, as Stella has just proven. Not without respect, but more confidently, like teenagers questioning their parents for the first time. If left unchecked, it will soon turn into arrogance and disrespect for us, and *that* will be dangerous."

"You didn't answer her question, though," Spencer said to him coolly. "Not that she asked a question, but it was implied."

Ralf held his gaze. "No, I didn't, because it isn't the right time. But I will." He turned to Boyd. "Right now you need to return to your den. My coven is in grave danger from your pack if they are left leaderless."

But Boyd shook his head. "I'm not a leader."

"There you are wrong," Ralf said with a small smile. He reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out a stiff piece of parchment. "Thomas..." He swallowed past the lump in his throat which was constricting his voice. "Thomas gave this to me a few nights before he...before I..."

Grace quickly crossed the room and put one arm around his shoulders, the other resting lightly on his forearm, and ridiculously, Boyd found he was jealous. "We understand," she told him in a quiet, soothing voice.

Boyd took four long strides until he was standing in front of the Vampyre pair. He reached out to take the letter, but his eyes stayed fixed on Grace. "Do you know what it says?"

"No, but I can guess. Thomas and I were...extremely close, there wasn't much about him or his thoughts that I didn't know. Boyd," Ralf said firmly, "This letter needs to be found in your den."

He finally shifted his gaze to the Vampyre Elder. "I understand." With a final glance at Grace, he turned and strode towards the doors. "Spence, Kat, we're leaving."

Grace made to follow, but Ralf held her back. "No. This is something he must do on his own."

Eve and Stella opened the doors, allowing the Lycans to leave, but Mel stepped in their path. "You'll need a ride back. I'll take you."

"We don't...," Kat started to say.

"Thanks," Spencer interrupted. "That's...kind of you."

"Now what?" Eve asked once they had left.

"Now we wait," Ralf replied, sighing heavily. "Now we wait."

TBC


	15. Fifteenth Truth

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Mel pulled up a few streets away from the Lycans den, but no more than five minutes walk. "Sorry, but this is as far as I dare go," she said as the three Lycans exited the car.

"I'm surprised you brought us this far, actually," Spencer replied politely. "You took quite a risk."

"After what I've just heard, I decided it was worth it. Obviously this changes quite a bit between us, though when we'll get a chance to work through all that, I don't know." Mel smiled a little.

Boyd looked at her. "You had better go. It isn't safe for you, not even here."

Mel nodded and looked at though she was going to say something, but changed her mind and started to drive up. Then she stopped and put her head out of the window. "Good luck."

Kat glared at the departing car, not seeing it but the Vampyre driving it. "So, what do we do first?" she asked eventually.

"Other than find a cure for shock?" Spencer replied with a smile.

Boyd looked at the dark-skinned Lycan for a moment before shaking his head. "This needs to be handled carefully, but quickly," he said, surprising himself once again by his tact. "We need to keep the rest of the pack under control, but first, I need to read this letter and collect myself. Spence, Kat, I need you two to gather everyone into the main hall. Quell any talk of killing or revenge; tell them I need to speak with them."

"I don't know if they'll all come, Boyd," Spencer replied dubiously.

"They'll come. Also, make sure all the exits are secure. Once you've done that, meet me at my room. I'll be waiting there for you." Without waiting for them to acknowledge in understanding, Boyd strode off, taking a little used way into the den.

As he reached his room, Boyd made sure it was empty before he shut the door and made his way to his bed, sitting heavily on it. Placing the letter beside him for a moment, he stretched and ran a hand wearily over his face. It had been a hell of a long night and he was still trying to get his head around everything, but the startlingly clear fact was that Thomas was dead, and although Boyd didn't know the contents of the letter Ralf had given him, he could guess; he was to be the new Elder. It was a position he had never envied, a job he never wanted, but if that was the way things were supposed to be, he would take on the responsibility. He was, after all, known for his broad shoulders, as well as his tenacity and stubbornness.

At the thought of broad shoulders, Boyd realised he was still wearing a tattered shirt, and slowly he stood, walking over to his wardrobe and selecting a fresh one, molten silver in colour with dark blue trim. It was his least favourite piece of clothing, but he knew it made him look even more impressive than he already was, accentuating his height and muscularity of his torso, and while he didn't usually go in for mind tricks like that, he felt he needed every advantage he could get that evening.

The last button of his shirt done up, Boyd sat down on the bed again and slowly reached for the letter. He was only partially sure of one thing it contained; everything else would be a surprise and he hated surprises. But the longer he postponed it, the more the rest of the pack would grow restless and want revenge. With a sigh, he unfolded the thick parchment and began to read.

*Boyd,

If you're reading this letter and I'm not dead, then something has gone seriously wrong, but I find this highly unlikely. As ironic (or stupid) as this will sound to you, I trust Ralf with my life, which is why I trusted him with my death. When you love someone with every part of your being – mind, body and soul – you can achieve this level of trust. I'm sure you know what I mean, though whether you realise it yet or not remains to be seen.

I will not reiterate what I know Ralf will have already told you, and yes, I am assuming a great deal, but see above for my reasoning. While I know your mind will be looking for a way to prove this is all some sort of elaborate artifice, you know in your heart that it isn't. There are a few things that I must tell you, however I cannot tell you everything. It will burn you to know I am still keeping secrets in death, but trust me when I say it is necessary. When one keeps an arcanum for too long, it becomes incredibly difficult to part with, but you will discovery the truth eventually.

Item one, and this I suspect you already know. I appoint you the new Elder. I would say don't thank me, but I know gratitude is the last thing on this earth that you will be displaying. Just try to keep your name calling of me to a minimum, please. I may be dead, and you may have been promoted, but I'm still your superior. I won't bother telling you why I chose you; your ego does not need stroking. I will tell you, however, that it wasn't a random choice. It never is when the next Elder is chosen, but with you it was a little different. I'm sorry, but that's all I can say for now.

Item two: trust Ralf implicitly. Trust him as you would trust me. I would say trust him as you would trust yourself but I know you still have issues regarding control over your temper. I realise he is a Vampyre, but as you now know, our two races were not meant to war for so long. Squabble like a dysfunctional family, yes, but fight so aggressively... I know Ralf will not have told you the reasons for the war, and I am not about to divulge them now. But I will say we were both at fault; Ralf and I were to blame, and yes, we could have stopped the fighting before it reached such dramatic heights, but we didn't. Pride, I suppose, was what stopped us, and sheer stubbornness; I was waiting for him to admit he was wrong and to apologise, and he wanted the same from me.

Item three. Presuming you have followed item two, Ralf will divulge certain things to you over time; before he dies, he will have told you the rest of the secrets. What you do with the knowledge is entirely up to you. I will not lecture you on how to lead our pack. The time has come for radical change, I think, and most of the old way are perhaps redundant now. Or perhaps you will find a way to modernise us without losing all tradition. Whatever your approach, I wish you luck.

Item four. By now I suspect that you have a fairly good idea of who the next Vampyre Elder will be; if you don't, I will be quite disappointed. I can tell you that I already know, but I expect that is no big surprise to you either. Ralf won't have made it official, yet; he is waiting for the right time. Besides, his strength is needed during this transition period. I know that he will have also explained about the Blacklight power, but he will not have told you how to get it. That task he left for me; my gratitude to him was similar to the gratitude I expect you showed me when I gave you a promotion... So, as there is no easy way to do this, I shall just jump in feet first.

As you will know by now, each pair of Elders are also lovers. I'm sure Ralf explained the reasoning behind this. It has always worked well in the past, but...well, I hope you will not make the same mistakes as we did. But that is by the by. Yes, your curious mind will be wondering why I jumped from gaining the Blacklight power with Elders being lovers, and the reason is simple; the Blacklight power comes from the two new Elders having sex. Of course, it isn't as simple as that; it never is. You can't just sleep together; there must be mutual giving and taking, a true connection of souls. And if you feel the urge to say 'I love you' make sure that you mean it. It has happened before that two Elders have hated each other intensely, but followed tradition out of duty and because of that, did not receive the Blacklight power. This meant that in the trials that followed, they either suffered humiliating and almost fatal defeats, or they were actually killed.

Despite what you think your initial reaction should be, or might be, I know that this idea will not disgust you as it has some of the previous Elders. And while there is usually a period of 'getting to know each other', now there isn't time. You and the new Elder must share the night sooner than is traditional because you are going to need the Blacklight power to keep our pack together.

Finally, under no circumstances must you allow any Lycan to commit any act of violence against the Vampyres. Ralf will know you're not to blame, but the rest of his coven won't be so understanding. My death happening in such a way always presented this risk, but it was necessary. I will leave it up to you how you go about this meeting, and also what you tell the pack to keep them under control until you receive the Blacklight power. Do what you must.

I wish... Yes, it is true, when you know you are about to die, you think of all the regrets in your life, rather than the good memories. Listen to me, Boyd; cherish your good memories, even the ones you don't realise you have. As for me, I wish things could have been different. I wish your transition into this job didn't have to happen in this way, but the situation has more than spiralled out of control and it requires a completely new perspective in order to change it.

I wish you the best of luck, my friend,

Thomas*

Boyd wasn't sure how long he sat there with the parchment held in his hands, trying to absorb what he had just read. It was a lot to take in but Thomas had also told him there were still things he hadn't shared yet, and the new Lycan Elder wasn't sure he could take any more surprises. But he didn't have time to contemplate what lay ahead any more as there was a knock on his door. Folding the letter, he stood and put it in the top drawer of his desk.

"Come," Boyd called, standing with his back to the door, his hand resting on his desk, almost feeling the power of the words in the letter through the wood.

"Boyd?" Kat said tentatively.

The silver-haired Lycan looked up. "Is everyone there?"

Spencer nodded. "I don't think we're missing anyone."

"If we are, they'll get the message sooner rather than later," Boyd replied. "Let's go."

They strode purposefully down the corridors, Kat and Spencer walking slightly behind Boyd, and if any Lycans had been lingering in the den, they would have moved out of the way immediately. Just before they entered the room, Boyd turned to his companions.

"I want you two to stay here, inside the room, but at the back."

"In case there's any trouble," Spencer said.

Kat nodded. "We understand."

As he walked to the front of the gathered crowd, Boyd constructed his speech in his mind. It was need to be simple but effective; any lie told would have to be based in truth, and he knew exactly which lie to use. Although it was an underhand tactic to use, he also knew it was the best way to proceed, at least for the moment. That way the Lycans had their thirst for revenge quenched and Linda would be out of their lives.

"Silence," Boyd said, his voice rumbled around the room. "Thomas' death pains us all and it is a grief we will carry for a long time into the future. And right now I know you are all burning with the need to kill, anyone or anything. But do you know who you should be targeting with your anger!"

"The Vampyres!" someone snarled, and the other Lycans roared their assent.

"How do you know it was a Vampyre?" Boyd asked calmly.

There was a briefly silence and then another Lycan yelled, "Linda told us!"

Boyd's lip curled at the mention of her name, letting everyone know what he thought about her. "Yes. Linda. And how trustworthy is she, really?"

"She's trustworthy!" a voice replied heatedly, and it sounded to Boyd like one of the new additions. "And who are you to question her?"

Before he could speak, Spencer jumped to his feet and surged forwards towards the crowd, forcing them backwards. "Why don't you come up here and say that, or are you *afraid*? Not that I'd blame you. You know damn well that Boyd could rip you limb from limb without breaking a sweat. So, come up here and say that!"

Boyd stepped forwards and put his hand on the dark-skinned Lycan's shoulder. "Easy, Spence." He scanned the gathering. "Who here saw Thomas' body? Who here *knows* how he died?"

"I did," Kat said after a few moments of silence. "He was stabbed, presumably with a silver blade."

"In the back!" someone shouted.

"Did you see the wound?" Boyd asked, and his answer was silence.

"Actually it was in the front." Kat looked at the silver-haired Lycan and he nodded slightly, telling her to tell them. "It looked like someone came up from behind him but put their arm around him to stab him in the chest."

Only Boyd, Kat and Spencer knew what that meant; the knowledge confused the rest into silence. "I have here a parchment from Thomas decreeing that in the event of his death, I am to assume leadership of the Lycan pack," Boyd said, holding the small folded letter up to the crowd. "And despite what some of you may have heard, there is no such thing as being allowed to challenge the position. There never has been. I am now the Lycan Elder, and I am telling you, Linda is responsible for Thomas' death."

"I don't believe it," an older Lycan, Stefan, said, shaking his head. "Not that I'm doubting your word, Boyd, you know I wouldn't. But Linda? Why? What was she hoping to gain from it?"

"Quite possibly leadership of the Lycans, and perhaps the Vampyres as well. With Linda, who knows," Boyd replied. "She has been seen cavorting with Vampyres, scheming to bring mischief down on both our races, and there was talk of murdering an Elder. Unfortunately they never said a name; we didn't know until much too late. There can only be one goal from such actions: power."

"What will happen to her?" Stefan asked.

Boyd took a moment to collect his thoughts, as he knew this would be one the biggest challenges he would face as Elder of the Lycans. "She will be brought before us and made to tell the truth. And then I will decide her fate." There was a rumble of assent from most of the Lycans assembled and the silver-haired Lycan felt himself relaxing a little. But he could tell from Spencer and Kat's postures that they were expecting trouble from the silent few. "For now, I ask you to go to your rooms and stay in the den."

"What about the Vampyres?" someone asked quietly.

He smiled toothily. "They aren't going anywhere. If the time comes for us to show them who is the strongest, they will be there, waiting for us." He caught Stefan's eye and motioned almost imperceptibly to the side of the room.

"You wanted to see me?" Stefan asked in a respectful tone.

"Do you have to do that?" Boyd grumbled.

"You're the Elder now," he pointed out.

"Yes. Thank you for that."

"They're going to cause trouble," Spencer said as he and Kat came over to the older pair, watching a group of newly turned Lycans skulk out of the room.

Kat shook her head in disdain. "They aren't even trying to be secretive about it. They think they're invincible!"

"They're young," Boyd reminded her.

"They're stupid," she scoffed.

"Stefan, coordinate with Spencer and Kat to put together a few teams that can be trusted," Boyd said after an almost fond smile at the young female Lycan. "I want order maintained even if it has to be done so with an iron fist."

"Understood," Stefan said, nodding.

Spencer looked at Boyd. "What about you?"

"I'm going to see Linda."

"Alone?"

"Frankie and Felix are there," Boyd reminded him. "I can take care of myself, Spence."

The dark-skinned Lycan leaned in close to whisper, glad that Kat had moved a little way off to talk to Stefan. "But you haven't received the Blacklight power yet...have you?"

Boyd couldn't help but let a feral grin loose in anticipation of what was to come. "No, not yet."

Spencer chose not to ask why his companion looked so damned smug. "Then you're no stronger than normal."

"Spence, this is Linda."

"Who has a history of violent rages that make her extremely dangerous," the dark-skinned Lycan reminded him. "Just...be careful. We've lost Thomas, we can't lose you as well." He then grinned before adding, "Not just yet any. Perhaps once you've trained me to take your place..."

"Spencer," Boyd said, his voice rumbling, his tone ominous.

"Yes, boss?"

"Get to work."

"Yes, boss."

As he walked away, Boyd allowed himself a small smile. He had no doubt that in the future, Spencer would make an excellent Elder and he had already made the decision to start educating him as Thomas had been educating Boyd, the silver-haired Lycan now realised. It was strange that at the time, he never noticed the extra attention he was receiving, put it down to the job he had been given, nothing more. Yet looking back now, it all made sense, but he caught himself wishing he had listened more, paid attention to the small details when Thomas tried to teach him something without actually coming out and saying what the lesson was. Boyd thought about making things easier for Spencer, but then decided it was better not to; despite his regrets, the silver-haired Lycan had learnt a great deal from the deceased Lycan Elder, and he wouldn't have had his training any other way.

Blood-smell suddenly filled his nostrils, its sweet scent so overpowering in its abundance that Boyd almost lost control, which would have resulted him changing instantly and rushing out into the night to sate his appetite with the first people he came across, but with a great effort, he kept the beast within. As he rounded the corner, entering the corridor off which was the room where Linda was held, he saw the reason for the blood-smell.

Frankie lay on the floor just outside the door to Linda's room, her head in a pool of her own blood, one side of her face unrecognisable due to massive claw damage. One arm was bent out at an unnatural angle, and parts of her clothes were shredded. Boyd wanted to take a deep, sharp breath reflexively in an expression of shock but he stopped himself, knowing that inhaling that much blood-smell would definitely drive him berserk. Frankie looked to be in a bad way and Boyd felt his protective instincts kicking in, despite what she had done to him in the past, despite the fact that she had made it very clear she still hated him. He put it down to his newly elevated position, but whatever the reason, he needed to know what had happened to her. Breathing shallowly through his mouth, Boyd glanced to the right of Frankie as he started to move, and instantly he stopped.

"Felix," he said quietly, rushing to the other Lycan woman's side.

At least he presumed it was Felix. The clothes on her body were hanging off in thin strips, the flesh from her legs having been ripped off to expose bone in places. One of her hands was a mangled mess, the other one missing at least a finger. Boyd didn't care to look too closely, didn't even register that his own clothes were slowly soaking up the blood that Felix was losing. Her face was completely smashed on one side, her jaw looking like it had been either dislocated or broken. Her torso was traversed with savage slashes, and every time she breathed, a spurt of blood accompanied the action, showing a lung was punctured. Boyd turned her head carefully and almost howled in rage; the other side of her face had also been shredded and she was missing an eye.

"Bo...yd?"

He gritted his teeth together so hard that he bit the inside of his mouth, drawing blood, which he couldn't drink and couldn't spit out. "Don't talk, Felix," he said hoarsely. "You need to save your strength."

"Wo...nt...s...ur...ve...is..."

Boyd looked at her, trying to decipher what she had said and why a strange gurgling/rushing sound accompanied her speaking. "You will survive this, I promise you."

"No," Felix replied, and as Boyd studied her more carefully, he saw that her throat had been all but ripped out.

"Where is Linda?" he asked, feeling his whole body starting to shake with barely controlled anger.

"...On..."

"Gone?" Boyd said, and Felix tried to nod. "No, don't do that. Just...if the answer is yes, don't make any sound at all, okay?" Silence. "Good." Suddenly he snarled in frustration. "And you can't even tell me what happened or where she's gone! No, I'm not angry at you. You tried to stop her, didn't you?" Silence. "Which is how you got into this state." Silence. "Did Linda go berserk?" Silence. "Shit. Shit, I don't know what to do."

"...Ran..ie...," Felix managed.

"Frankie?" Boyd asked, and was answered with silence. "She's...well, she's unconscious, not in as bad a way as you. Did Linda take her out first?" Silence. "Blood! I have a good mind to give that bitch to the Vampyres as a peace offering. Do you think that's a good idea?" Silence. "I thought you might." He looked over her wounds again, became aware of the saturation of his clothes, and sighed. "Felix, I...you..." He sighed again. "You're in a bad way, and I owe it to you to tell you the truth. You're not going to make it. The damage is too extensive to heal, even by us. I'm sorry. But you did your job, better than I could ever have asked from you. You were loyal, if a little surly, but you were a proud addition to our pack. Rest now. You've earned it."

And slowly, Boyd saw the light fade from Felix's single eye, felt the life finish seeping out from her, and when he was holding nothing but an empty shell, he finally allowed himself to howl desolately.

TBC


	16. Sixteenth Storm

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Someone should talk to her," Eve said mildly as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

"Are you volunteering?" Stella asked her.

"No. Are you?"

"I don't think that is a good idea."

They both looked at Ralf, who was staring at Grace's back. "In that case, we'll just have to wait for Mel to come back," Eve replied.

Stella grimaced. "Unless the Lycans kill her."

"Enough, both of you," Ralf said quietly without turning to look at them. "The Lycans won't kill Mel; Boyd isn't stupid. He knows what is at stake if he lets that happen. And I have every confidence he will be able to keep his pack under control."

"How can you be so sure?" Stella asked respectfully.

"Thomas trusted him. That's enough for me," Ralf replied before walking over to the exponent.

Grace stood staring out of the tall window into the black night, her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive gesture. She was far away in thought, her reflection in the glass told the Elder that, and he was almost certain that she wasn't aware of the vulnerable image she was projecting.

"Looks like there could be a storm brewing."

"Are you talking about the weather or our situation?" Grace asked without looking at him.

Ralf smiled. "Both."

"I still don't understand why," she said after a few moments.

"Why what?"

"Why did you kill Thomas if you loved him?"

Ralf sighed. "I've tried to explain it the best way I can, Grace. If you don't understand by now, then nothing else I say will make it any clearer."

"Eve, where is Harry?" Grace asked, finally turning away from the window.

"Somewhere safe," Eve replied, stubbing her cigarette out.

"Not safe enough for my liking. Bring him back here," she said. "Can you and Stella manage that on your own?"

The two Vampyres looked at each other and nodded. "We can handle it," Eve told her.

"Where should we put him when we get back?" Stella asked.

Ralf looked at her. "The dungeon. But make sure there is enough room for two."

"Two?" Grace asked.

"Have you forgotten about Jackie?"

The exponent's face darkened immediately. "How could I?"

"Do you want us to track her as well?" Stella asked.

Both Grace and Ralf shook their heads. "No. Get Harry back here and then take Mel with you," the Elder ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"And now they have gone, we can talk," Ralf said, sitting down. "After all, that was what you wanted, am I right?"

"You already know who will be the new Vampyre Elder," Grace started without preamble. "Who is it going to be?"

Ralf studied her silently for a few moments. "You're jealous," he stated.

"What?" she objected loudly.

"Drop the act, Grace. We're alone. You love Boyd and you're jealous because you think someone else will take their place at his side rather than you."

"I do not..."

"Don't lie to me," Ralf said in a quiet but firm voice. "Think before you answer."

Grace opened her mouth to refute the absurd claims the Elder was making but found she couldn't. "I don't know him!" she replied eventually.

Ralf's soft eyes bored into hers. "Are you sure about that?"

"What do you mean?" Grace asked, suddenly afraid.

He sighed. "I can't tell you. At least not yet. But I will eventually. When Boyd is with you." He looked away. "It was one of the things Thomas charged me with before..."

"Are you saying that the...the next Vampyre Elder...will be me?" Grace said, changing the topic of conversation slightly.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Ralf replied with a smile.

"But...that means that Boyd...and I...will be...lovers!" she protested.

The Elder laughed. "One minute you're jealous, the next you're afraid. Make up your mind, Grace."

"Yes, I am afraid," she admitted. "The first time I saw Boyd, I felt as though I knew him. I felt a sudden, strong, and completely irrational attraction to him. Is that normal?"

"No," Ralf replied. "Most new Elders hate each other on sight. Some have been indifferent, but none have ever liked each other before being chosen."

"So why are Boyd and I different?" Grace asked, then smiled. "Or is that another of those things you can't tell me yet?"

"Exactly."

"The Blacklight power."

"What about it?"

"I believe you're about to tell me how I get it," Grace replied.

"I already told you, the current Elder has to die," Ralf said.

"A half truth, and that is worse than a lie. You told me *that*." Grace folded her arms imperiously. "I don't think the two are related in the way you mean."

Ralf sighed. "You always were too smart for your own good," he replied, a slightly bitter edge to his voice. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"When and how you are going to die."

"I will die as soon as the Blacklight power leaves me," he told her.

Grace finally sat down next to him and reached for his hand. "And if I refuse the position?"

"You can't. My time is over."

"So you were telling the truth. I'm sorry."

Ralf smiled. "Not exactly." He squeezed her hand. "I'll explain. As you know, the Elders are always lovers. The Blacklight power is obtained when the two new Elders sleep together."

Grace's eyes widened. "As in..."

"Yes, sex. But not just that; there has to be a mutual giving and taking, and if you say 'I love you' make sure you mean it. Trials follow the transference of power that only someone with Blacklight can pass. Once the two new Elders have...consummated their relationship, and the Blacklight power has been transferred, the two old Elders die."

"But with the state of war between our coven and Boyd's pack, despite the fact we're supposed to be at peace, necessitated an acceleration of that process, which is why you killed Thomas, forcing the choice of a new Elder," Grace said.

Ralf looked at her fondly. "Do you have to make things so long winded?" he asked with a smile.

Grace blushed. "I..."

"Don't worry, I understood every word...luckily. However, I would suggest using smaller words when dealing with Boyd. Not that he's stupid," Ralf added quickly. "Far from it. But the longer you talk, the more chance you would have of losing his attention."

"I could always talk to him naked," Grace mused, then looked mortified.

But Ralf simply laughed. "Believe me, if you did that he wouldn't pay *any* attention to what you were saying."

There was a knock on the door and then it opened to reveal the blonde head of Mel. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Ralf said, smiling.

"Any problems?" Grace asked.

Mel shook her head as she sat down. "They were actually quite...cordial. Almost pleasant. Well, the men were. The female, however, is a different matter."

"I think that is a simple case of your personalities clashing," Grace said. "Nothing to do with you being a Vampyre and Kat being a Lycan."

Mel pulled a face. "Do you have to do that to me, Grace? If I wanted analysing, I would make an appointment."

"I'm sorry, it's just who I am."

"Which reminds me, I want to talk to you," the blonde Vampyre said seriously.

Ralf stood. "I'll be over there, not listening." He walked off to the farthest corner of the room.

"What is it?" Grace asked, frowning in concern.

"Why was Eve charged with following Harry and now me?" Mel asked.

Grace looked at her in surprise. That question was not what she was expecting to hear. Then she sighed. "I suppose you want me to be honest."

"Of course."

"I was concerned for your safety," Grace said simply. "While I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, Harry is not a normal Vampyre. He doesn't operate by the same moral rules as the rest of us, which is what makes him dangerous."

"Then why send Eve?" Mel asked. "She was probably even less capable of dealing with him than I was. After all, if it hadn't been for Stella's intervention, she would probably be dead now."

"I know, but Eve is...well, she's expendable. You are not."

Mel stared at Grace and blinked several times. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. I know it sounds callous and heartless, but sometimes tough decisions like these have to be made," the exponent replied.

"Which is why Grace will be the new Elder," Ralf said, appearing behind the exponent and putting his hands on her shoulders.

"I thought you wouldn't be listening?" she asked, amused.

Ralf shrugged. "I lied."

"Wait, Grace is to be the new Elder?" Mel asked, surprised. The older Vampyres nodded. "I...that's..." She smiled. "Congratulations, Grace."

"Thank you."

"But...what will happen to you, Ralf?" Mel's eyes were wide, like a child's.

Ralf sighed and sat down next to Grace again. "I will die."

"No!"

"It's the way it has to be, Mel," Ralf explained. "It's the way it has always been. Once the Blacklight power leaves us, we cannot survive. It's the natural order of things, and the natural order should always be obeyed."

The blonde swallowed back the tears, then her expression froze. "Wait. The Elders are always lovers...so who...? Oh!"

Grace smiled, though a rosy shade dusted her cheeks too. "Yes. Boyd is the new Lycan Elder, so he and I..."

"I get the idea," Mel said quickly, holding her hands up. "Do you want to know something? I'm happy for you. Seeing the two of you together, it seems almost...natural. If you weren't a Vampyre and he wasn't a Lycan, I would have said 'why didn't it happen sooner'?"

Grace laughed. "Thank you, Mel."

"So who will you be grooming as the next Elder?" she asked with a sparkle in her eyes. "Not Stella, I hope."

"I was thinking of Eve..."

"Grace!"

The exponent laughed again. "You should know better than to ask if you don't want a daft answer."

Ralf smiled as he listened to the two of them bantering. Grace was an excellent choice to replace him, especially once Harry and Jackie had been taken care of, and with Boyd by her side, she would be invincible.

"There is just one more question I would like to ask," the object of his thoughts said.

Ralf sighed. "Go on."

"Why Thomas and not you?"

"Because Boyd is stronger. He is willing to use brute force and violence to keep his pack under control, whereas I feared that the coven would overrun you without my support," he replied candidly. "Once you have the Blacklight power, you will have nothing to worry about. And if you let Boyd corrupt you into more...firm thinking, it would do you the world of good. And in return, you can corrupt him into calmer thinking."

"I should be insulted or hurt," Grace pointed out.

"But you're not," Mel said before Ralf could reply.

Grace rolled her eyes. "You know me too well."

Just then the doors burst open and Stella and Eve came rushing into the room, both out of the breath, their faces paler than normal. "We have a serious problem," the dark-haired Vampyre said.

"Go on," Grace replied, leaning forward.

Stella walked up to her and handed her a scrappy piece of paper. "We found this where we had left Harry."

Ralf looked up sharply. "Harry wasn't there?"

Eve shook her head and lit up a cigarette. "No. Someone had found him and released him," she replied between puffs.

"How do you know he didn't escape?" Mel asked.

"Because this is Jackie's handwriting," Grace said quietly, holding the note.

"What does it say?" Ralf asked.

But the exponent was silent, reading and re-reading the few words on the paper, so Stella answered for her instead. "'We are coming for you. The time for you to die is at hand. There is no escape.'"

TBC


	17. Seventeenth Waiting

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Boyd, you've got to sleep," Spencer told him, though his words fell on deaf ears. The dark-skinned Lycan wasn't surprised; it had been that way for the past few hours, ever since him and Kat found Boyd cradling Felix's lifeless body.

*"What happened?" Spencer asked, dropping to his knees beside the pair.

"Linda," Boyd ground out, his voice so guttural and terrible that Kat took three steps backwards in fright.

Spencer could only stare in shock. "What?" he asked, stupidly, he realised afterwards.

And when Boyd looked at him, the dark-skinned Lycan jumped to his feet and stepped back as well. "Linda escaped. Went berserk. Killed Felix. And Frankie..." He trailed off.

Kat knelt by the dark-haired Lycan female. "She'll be alright," she said after a moment. "She's taken a beating, that's for sure, but she's tough. And stubborn. She needs rest and some minor healing treatment, but in a couple of days she'll be as good as new."

"Kat, go and find Stefan," Spencer told her. "Bring him here, then go and find Jess. Take her to Frankie's room with her kit. But don't tell either of them what has happened. We need to keep this quiet, for the moment." He turned to Boyd. "Sir, we need to take Felix away."

Boyd glared at him again but Spencer didn't flinch this time. "I'll take her," the new Elder said eventually, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"We'll look after Frankie. And then we'll find Linda."

At Spencer's fierce tone, Boyd felt a surge of pride, but he shook his head. "No. Take care of Frankie and then circulate the news. Don't gather everyone again, just make sure that everyone knows what has happened and who is responsible for this...atrocity. And if anyone doubts my word, they know where they can find me to call me a liar to my face."

"You wanted to see me?" Stefan asked as he approached, looking from Boyd to the dark-skinned Lycan, unsure who had sent for him.

Spencer nodded. "Help me carry Frankie to her room, will you?"

Stefan's eyes widened as he took in Frankie's battered appearance and Felix's dead body. "What happened?"

As they walked away, Boyd heard Spencer say, "Linda", but he wasn't interested in what his second had to say. He knew the situation, knew there was only one way to resolve it, but his anger wasn't fully focussed on the female who was now his arch-nemesis; it was partly directed at himself, because when he realised what had happened, his first thought was to wish Grace was there with him, and he hated feeling so...weak with and attached to anyone, especially the enemy. Only she wasn't the enemy any more. According to what Ralf had told Boyd, and what was contained in Thomas' letter, she was more like his soul mate, or in the very least, his lover. Because while there may have been some doubt in Grace's mind over who was to become the new Vampyre Elder, there was none in Boyd's. He knew it was her.

He put Felix's body carefully into the pit and then, with obvious disgust, took up the silver spike from its position on the wall. He had never enjoyed this task anyway, unlike some, but when it was someone he knew, even cared for, it was incredibly difficult. But with gritted teeth and white knuckles, he drove the spike through Felix's heart, wrenched it clear quickly, wiped it and put it back in its place. He couldn't bear to look at her any more, couldn't bear to think that by the evening, she would be gone completely. It was a little known fact that the Lycans and Vampyres were more alike than anyone thought; both had an intolerance to sunlight. But while the Vampyres' prevented them from going out in it at all, the Lycans were only susceptible is seriously wounded, or dead. A silver spike to the heart would render their immune system, as it was, inactive, and when the first rays of sunlight touched a dead Lycan's body, they would start to disintegrate, just like a Vampyre. Without the silver in the blood stream, a dead Lycan would look just like a normal human, the immune system continuing to work some time after death. All of this flashed through Boyd's mind as he forced himself to climb out of the pit, a specially dug chamber that was lined with mirrors, concentrating the sun's rays to the base, ridding them quickly of any dead bodies. He had to force himself to climb because he felt the strong urge to stay, and even for a strong, healthy Lycan, staying in the pit during the day was not a good idea.*

Emerging from the pit, Boyd had found Spencer waiting for him, the dark-skinned Lycan's expression impassive. "Come on," he had said. "You need to rest. And change."

It was then that Boyd had looked down and realised his shirt and trousers were soaked with blood. He had silently followed Spencer through the corridors, and while the new Elder showered and changed, his companion brought some food back from the kitchen. But Boyd had refused to eat, and Spencer had spent the last few hours trying to convince him to.

"Look, Boyd, you're no good to any of us if you simply waste away," Spencer said bluntly.

"Remember who you're talking to," he snapped back.

"How many times did you put Thomas in his place?" Spencer continued regardless. "How many times did you tell him things he didn't want to hear? It's why people like me and you exist, Boyd. We're not afraid to tell things as they are."

"You should be afraid."

Spencer held his gaze. "Not of you, not now. And do you know why? Because I don't have any reason to be. But if I was Linda, I would be looking for the deepest hole far away from you to hide in."

"She won't," Boyd replied.

"No, she won't. And whatever she decides to do, we'll be ready for her."

"Will we?" Boyd asked. "You know how devious she is."

Spencer studied his friend carefully. "This isn't like you, Boyd. What's happening? Do you want to talk about it?"

The Elder laughed. "I don't know if you would understand or not."

"I don't need to understand to listen," he replied. "Try me. And you know I won't telling another soul."

"I know. The short version? Grace will be the new Vampyre Elder, or so I believe, and that means the two of us will be lovers."

"Which won't be a problem."

"No, but the fact that I'm not... I mean, I'm okay with that. More than okay with it, which is just..."

"Weird," Spencer finished for him, nodding. "I know, but if that is what's meant to happen, just accept it. Fate and destiny are two things completely out of our control."

"Do you really believe in destiny, Spence?" Boyd asked sceptically.

His companion nodded. "Actually, I do. I think there has to be a reason for all these odd coincidences, for anything that can't be explained. Perhaps it was destiny that you and Grace met, that you have such a strong connection."

"That's the thing, Spence, I think that our connection is stronger than any other pairing of Elders before. And before you think it, that is not my ego talking." Boyd ran a hand through his hair. "There was something about Ralf's attitude towards the whole situation that seemed odd to me, and then with Thomas' letter... I know they're holding back, I just wonder what secrets they are still keeping."

"And you miss Grace," Spencer stated.

"Yes," Boyd admitted, though he grimaced doing so.

"And you hate feeling that way." Spencer smiled. "Boyd, if you were shouting from the rooftops, then I would worry about you. But the way you are reacting to all of this is normal for you. What isn't normal is your reaction over Felix's death."

"It's not that. Linda was working with two Vampyres, and I think Grace is in danger," Boyd replied. "Especially from Linda."

Spencer growled. "She wouldn't dare try to hurt a Vampyre, especially not such an eminent one as Grace."

"Of course she would."

"I'll kill her."

Boyd raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why do you care? Grace is a Vampyre."

Spencer's face flushed crimson. "I care because she is important to you, and that makes her important to me. I care because if she is to be the next Elder and she dies because of a Lycan, we could have the bloodiest war in history on our hands."

"And you like her."

"I didn't say that."

Boyd smiled. "You didn't have to."

"So you're worried about Grace, is that it?" Spencer asked.

"Top and bottom of it, yes. Right now, she will be sleeping, as will all the Vampyres. That makes her and them vulnerable; Linda knows this. However, I am hoping that she won't be able to get into the Vampyre Hall without the help of her Vampyre 'friends'. That at least will gives us some time."

"To do what?"

"To find her. I know I said no before, but that was because I wanted to talk to you." Boyd's expression turned grave. "I want her alive, but if your lives are in danger, kill her. Take a silver spike with you, stab her, leave the spike in the body and bring her back her. Do not take unnecessary risks. If she forces you to retreat, do so, no matter how much it hurts your pride."

"She won't," Spencer replied adamantly.

"She just killed Felix and seriously wounded Frankie," Boyd said. "She could do the same to you. Take Kat, but leave Stefan. I need someone to watch the pack with me."

The muscles in Spencer's jaw worked furiously for a few moments before he nodded. "Alright. But there's a condition."

"You're in no position..."

"Yes, I am, and I'm making demands, so shut up and listen," Spencer told him firmly. "You will eat and you will sleep, because if you see Grace tonight and you look like hell, she won't just have your balls, she'll have mine too. And I'm rather partial to mine."

Boyd hesitated a moment before laughing loudly. "Fair enough, Spence. Done deal. I'll eat and then check on Frankie. If I feel like sleeping, I do it in the chair in her room."

"Good, then Jess can keep an eye on the both of you."

Spencer was halfway across the room when Boyd's voice stopped him. "How is she?"

"She'll live, though Jess thinks she might have some...mental problems when she wakes up."

"What do you mean?"

"Frankie suffered a humiliating defeat," Spencer explained. "And we don't know if she was conscious or not when Linda was attacking Felix. If she wasn't, we're still going to have problems as she will be feeling guilty, but if she was..."

Boyd nodded. "I understand. Thanks, Spence. Do you need to rest up before you go?"

"Yes, but I'm going anyway." And he had slipped out of the room before the Elder could stop him.

For a brief moment Boyd thought about going after him and stopping him, preferably by way of knocking him out, but he decided against it. Spencer had been right; if Boyd saw Grace that night looking like Blood's Breath, they would both have the shit kicked out of them by her. Instead he dragged himself into the shower, discarding his bloodied clothes quickly, and once clean, he dressed, not paying much attention to his appearance. Later on he would change again, but for now, as he was resigned to simply waiting, he couldn't have cared less. Boyd hated waiting. He was not the most patient being on the planet; quite possibly the most *impatient* creature instead. No one would have disputed that.

There were a couple of Lycans in the kitchen and they quickly scrambled into action to make their Elder a decent meal when he entered the room. The attention irritated him, but he forced himself to be polite, reminding himself he would have to get used to such treatment. Thankfully, once they had cooked for him, the Lycans left Boyd in peace. He ate slowly and tiredly, trying to recall what day it was and attempting to place everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours into some sort of order. It wasn't easy, and by the end of his meal, he had given up even trying. It just wasn't worth the headache it was giving him.

With slow, deliberate steps, Boyd made his way to Frankie's room. Jess was still there and once again he was struck by how similar she was to Linda, but in looks only. Personality wise they could not have been any more different...thankfully.

"How is she?" Boyd asked quietly, but his deep voice still rumbled around the room.

Jess didn't even so much as blink at his presence, even though she had her back to him as he entered the room. "Well, all things considered. I've treated and bound her wounds, and set the bones that needed tending to. She should be awake later on today; I've given her something to make her sleep. She will need a couple of days bed rest, but as soon as she can be up and about, then she should be busy."

"Spencer said there might be some...mental scarring," Boyd said as he sat down next to Frankie's bed.

"Yes, I think there will be, but I am no expert," Jess replied, turning towards him. "She will need professional help, so if you know anyone..."

He knew she had heard rumours, just like the rest of the pack. News travelled fast in such a closed community, but he wasn't ready for giving any answers. "I understand."

"If you're going to stay with her, remember she needs her rest. Talk to her, but quietly, and do nothing to disturb or upset her," Jess said before leaving.

For a long time, Boyd was silent, trying to formulate the questions that he wanted answering. Finally, he just started to speak. "Why?" he asked quietly. "Why the sudden change of heart? I know what you told me before, but I still can't help wondering why you went from hating my guts to wanting to help me? I know you said you would still love to see me swing, but then you're almost killed trying to stop Linda from escaping." He shook his head. "I just don't understand, but something tells me I never will." Tentatively, and with infinite care, he took hold of her hand. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you, but at times you deserved it and I think you know that. But perhaps, when you wake up, if you have heard me, we can start out on a better footing. Now that I am Elder of the Lycan pack, things will be changing. Not just yet, as there are still many things that must be done, things that have to be sorted, but later, when we have a lull and changes are made, I want you to be a part of them. I know, you want to know why. Perhaps I am trying to atone for my mistakes, or perhaps I am simply only just realising your potential and the contribution you could make to the pack with the proper encouragement."

With that, Boyd squeezed Frankie's hand once and then let go, knowing no other words were needed. If she could hear him, she would know that he was sincere; he was known for rarely giving praise, only dishing it out when it was due, and in an unembellished kind of way. Stretching his tall frame, he groaned in tiredness and closed his eyes. The sooner he slept, the quicker the day would go and the faster the night would arrive. Then he could see Grace. Boyd fell asleep with a smile on his face.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*The sun was blazing down, kissing her skin, its rays as gentle as the lips of the one who lay beside her.*

"Not again," she muttered in her sleep. "No more." But the dream continued relentlessly, just as it had been doing for weeks now.

*Golden was the colour all around; golden sun, golden skin, golden leaves, golden hair. The time was golden in her memory but that memory had been repressed, put away, forgotten. Now it wanted to return, and in the dream world, she saw everything as golden.*

"Not mine. Can't be mine," she continued to mutter, but even in her unconscious state, she knew she was wrong. It was true, the memories were hers and although they may have been wanted at some point, now there were like thorns in her mind.

*There had been someone beside her, someone who had kissed her, caressed her, made love to her. But the figure was now missing and it was as though they were missing her heart too. And her heart cried out to them to find that one...*the* one. The missing piece to their soul, the logical conclusion to all of their thoughts and feelings...she had to find them. But the problem was, the One was faceless, almost shapeless. They could have been anybody...*

She groaned in her sleep, the dream thankfully fading, and it was a curious wonder to anyone who cared whether Grace would remember it when she awoke or not.

TBC


	18. Eighteenth First

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Boyd awoke with a start, the first rays of night streaming in through the open window. At first he had trouble placing his surroundings, wondering why he was in Frankie's room, and then he remembered. Remembered everything that had happened the previous night, and something else, something distant, in the background, like a picture that was all blurry. And then Grace's name flashed like lighting through his mind, clearing all of the jumble in an instant, only the echo remaining. Boyd smiled, but still struggled to understand what had awoken him.

"I thought you might want to shower, change and eat before we take you to the Vampyre Hall," Spencer remarked, respectfully but with a dose of dryness for good measure.

Boyd turned slowly to stare at his second. "Pardon?"

"What? You would rather we bring Grace here?" He shrugged. "Not the best idea, perhaps, but we can do that if you want." Spencer frowned. "Everything alright, Boyd? You look like a ghost."

"I'm fine, still trying to process everything."

Spencer grunted. "I know what you mean."

"Did you rest up?"

"Enough."

Boyd didn't feel the need to press him about it. "Felix..."

Spencer just nodded. No other words were needed. "Frankie?"

"Jess said she would be awake..." Boyd trailed off as he realised how long had passed. "She should have woken up hours ago. Jess gave her something to help her sleep. She said she would be fine, up and about in a couple of days."

"Recommended?"

"Insisted."

Spencer nodded. "Anything else?"

"Jess suggested Frankie may need...professional help to cope with any...mental scarring she may have," Boyd replied.

Spencer made the leap as well and simply shrugged. "Two closed communities such as ours always sport rife rumour mills."

Boyd stood and stretched, making sure Frankie was alright before turning to Spencer properly. "How have the pack been today?"

"For the most part, very well behaved," he replied. "A few have been outside but not many. Only those more trustworthy."

"Do we have any that fit that description?" Boyd asked, slightly amused.

"Only one or two," Spencer said.

"Any incidents?"

The dark-skinned Lycan shook his head. "Not that I've heard about." He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then at the sky outside. "Not that I'm trying to hustle you out of here or anything, boss, but I really think we should go now, if you want to go."

"What's going on, Spence?" Boyd asked, folding his arms.

Spencer sighed. "If you and Grace are supposed to be...close, then I think you need to see each other as soon as possible. Don't forget she had a lot to take in last night as well, and you don't know what may have happened after we left, or even during today."

Boyd shook his head. "If anything happened today, it can be placed squarely on our doorstep."

Spencer held his gaze. "Exactly. Just because *I* haven't heard of any incidents doesn't mean there weren't any."

"Good point." They left the room, Boyd casting one final glance at Frankie before he turned to Spencer. "We?"

"Kat, of course."

"She hates Vampyres."

"I had a talk with her."

Boyd growled. "That is not your responsibility."

"Actually, I think it is. You can talk to the rest of the pack." He grinned. "I'll let you. But Kat needs to be handled differently. I think she has the potential to be great and I want to nurture." Spencer's grin toned down to a smile. "Do you remember how you did the same with a certain dark-skinned, angry young Lycan?"

Boyd resisted rolling his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Spencer snorted, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. But as they neared the entrance hall for the den, he quickly sobered. "You know we're going to have problems sooner or later."

"Sooner rather than later." Boyd nodded. "I know. But I think certain things have to be dealt with first."

"You mean like obtaining the Blacklight power?" Spencer asked respectfully.

"I think both Grace and I are going to need it," Boyd replied honestly. "A few rebels I can handle, and I have no doubt she could do the same, but we're not talking about one or two dissidents. We're...or should I say *they* are talking about another full scale war, probably more bloody than the one that just ended. That I cannot stop on my own, not simply by being me. To ensure the survival of our race, and of the Vampyres, I need to be more. I need to be the greatest Elder who ever lived."

From any other person, the statement would have been a sure sign of egotism, but Spencer knew Boyd was simply telling the truth; no bragging, no false modesty, or modesty of any kind. Just the simple, unadorned truth. And Spencer knew he was right.

"Are you worried about the others seeing you leave?" the dark-skinned Lycan asked.

Boyd stopped. "A good point. Where is Stefan?"

"Manning the front door."

"Has he slept?"

"I don't know and I didn't ask."

When Boyd and Spencer approached, Stefan stood a little straighter and nodded to the new Elder. "No one has gone in or out, sir."

Boyd growled. "You can dispense with that for a start."

But Stefan shook his head. "Not when there may be others listening," he replied quietly.

"I need to go out, no questions asked. If the rest of the pack know, this could cause friction. I need Spence and Kat with me; can you handle it?" Boyd asked.

Stefan nodded his head. "I can handle it, sir."

"Good. We'll be back later."

Spencer smiled as they walked to the car. "That was easy."

"I find that life is complicated enough as it is, Spence, without adding more unnecessary confusion," Boyd replied. "Evening, Kat."

"Sir."

Boyd sighed. "You know where we're going?"

"Yes, sir," Kat replied.

"Try and get us there in one piece, please," he said.

"I shall endeavour to do my best, sir."

Once they had left the grounds of the Lycan den, Boyd allowed himself a truly blood-curdling, frustrated growl. "Drop the 'sir'. Now," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Spencer replied with a grin.

"Spence..." The single word was a spoken warning that was instantly understood.

"Sorry, boss, but you've got to get used to it. Whether you like it or not, you are now our Elder. And if you meant what you said to me earlier, then you need to take the respect when we give it to you." Spencer looked out of the window. "You know that most of the pack will disrespect you just for the hell of it, so don't knock the ones that behave as we do."

Boyd opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of anything to say. His friend's words rang truth silently around the inside of the car, so instead he stared out of the opposite window, Grace's face fixed firmly in his mind.

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Grace awoke with a start, the room in deepest darkness as usual. There was no unusual sound, nothing that felt out of place, and she struggled to understand what had awoken her so suddenly. But then the dream came back to her, both warming and haunting her. Now fully conscious, certain parts of it were like a balm to her soul, soothing the other parts that were like shards of glass embedded in her heart. She could not understand what it all meant, could not understand how she knew the dreams were memories...*her* memories, at that. But then Boyd's name echoed through her mind, appearing as sudden and unbidden as the man himself had the first time they met. Grace smiled and stretched, wondering how long she would have to wait to meet him again.

"Not long," Ralf said, causing Grace to jump and swear. "Such language is not becoming..."

"Do *not* say 'for a lady', or even 'for the next Elder'," the exponent replied.

"I was going to say 'of you'," he told her mildly.

"I wish you wouldn't *do* that."

He just shrugged. "It's my job. At least for now."

There was something in his voice, a catch that made Grace's heart ache, and even though she hadn't woken up properly yet, she crossed the room quickly to sit beside him and take his hand. "What is it?"

Ralf swallowed thickly. "I miss him," he said quietly. "We spent so damned long fighting over...what the Blood we were fighting over, and then when we had the chance to be together, we had to give it up." He squeezed her hand. "Don't waste a second with Boyd, Grace. Even if you want to kill him at times, and I have the feeling you will often, just remember that once he's gone, he isn't coming back."

In a rare gesture of bold affection, Grace lifted her hand and stroked Ralf's cheek gently. "I have the feeling it won't be long until you're together again."

"Do you really believe in that?"

She nodded. "Actually, I do. And I'm right, aren't I? You won't be with us much longer."

"As soon as the Blacklight power leaves me, I'm as good as mortal," Ralf replied. "And I welcome it, with open arms."

"Just as Thomas will welcome you."

"Hmm." Ralf's expression was wistful and distant for a moment before he turned to face her fully. "I do hope Boyd arrives soon, actually. I have something to share with both of you."

"That you couldn't tell us last night?" Grace asked, rather archly, letting her hand fall naturally from his cheek to her lap.

"Didn't you have enough to process last night?" he replied.

Grace ignored him, her hand suddenly going to her hair. "Blood! I need to shower and change. What if he...?"

Ralf smiled and squeezed her hand again. "Don't worry, I don't expect him right this very minute. That was why I woke you as soon as it was dark enough."

"Thank you. Wait, what do you mean 'dark enough'?" Grace narrowed her eyes. "You were asleep as well...weren't you?"

Ralf's smile stayed in place, but his expression turned enigmatic. "Why don't you go and take a shower, and then put something nice on?" he suggested. "If Boyd happens to arrive while you are going about your ablutions, I shall keep him out of mischief."

"Provided I get some answers," Grace told him.

"Done deal."

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No words were spoken as Mel met the Lycans at a side door and ushered them quickly to Ralf's office. Once there, and Boyd's eyes fell on Grace, he made an instinctive movement to her, but stopped short. Ralf smiled.

"You can show how you feel," the Vampyre Elder said. "If it offends anyone, they can simply leave."

Eve and Stella were also present, and Spencer felt Kat bristle at the uneven number; he knew it was an affront to her and that she would think the Vampyres were attempting to put them in their place. But he could tell that wasn't how the situation truly was; those in the room were those who could be trusted, it was as simple as that.

Grace touched Boyd's face. "You look like hell."

"You don't look much better," he replied with a crooked smile.

"I didn't sleep well."

Immediately, Boyd's eyes clouded. "Why? What happened?"

Grace shook her head. "Just some...odd dreams, that's all."

Boyd studied her for a moment. "But something did happen this morning, didn't it? After we left."

"Just as it did with you," she replied after sensing his underlying anger.

Boyd turned and surveyed the others in the room. "With your permission, Elder, I think we need to call a meeting."

Ralf's eyes widened almost comical. "A first," he remarked.

"Perhaps the start of a trend," Boyd replied.

"I presume the same code of loyalty and subsequent secret-keeping holds for your pack as my coven?" Ralf asked, and silently admitted to himself he was impressed when Boyd didn't reply, only stared at him. "Perhaps a pointless question, but one that needed to be asked. Very well, let us all sit."

He chose the first seat and then waited, seeing what Boyd would do. It was clear that the Lycan Elder was used to sitting last, but he knew that now had to change. Instead he seated himself opposite Ralf, another good move, the Vampyre Elder noted. The other placed themselves either side of their respective Elders, leaving an empty chair between Kat and Stella, and Mel and Spencer.

"Is there no one else you can trust?" Mel asked, looking at the empty seats.

"Of course," Kat snapped. "But..."

"Enough," Boyd said, his voice quiet, but his tone steel. And his gaze was fixed on Grace. "Kat, I want you and..."

"Mel," Grace supplied.

"Thank you. I want you and Mel to take your chairs and sit in the middle of the circle," he ordered, and the exponent let him.

Kat stared at Boyd incredulously. "You have to be joking," she said, forgetting who exactly she was talking to. "We're not children! At least, I'm not."

"Then stop acting like it," Spencer replied before Boyd had the chance, and the Lycan Elder let him.

Mel stood silently, picked her chair up and did as instructed, her expression one of calmness and serenity. Although Kat looked like a volcano ready to erupt with a nanosecond's notice, she wasn't about to be shamed by a Vampyre, and so followed suit, although she couldn't stop herself from folding her arms.

"I think that we should introduce ourselves first," Ralf suggested. "So that there is no excuse for any discourteous behaviour...by anyone."

Boyd nodded. "I'll start. Boyd, Lycan Elder."

"Spencer, Boyd's right hand."

"Grace, Ralf's right hand and the coven's exponent."

"Stella."

"Eve."

"Ralf, Vampyre Elder, though not for long."

"Mel."

"Kat."

"Excellent," Ralf said. "Now, I sense you have some news to share with us, and there are a few things we must tell you." Without preamble, he explained about Harry's escape, Jackie's disappearance and the note that had been left.

Boyd's eyes darkened considerably. "I'm starting to see the whole picture and I don't like it one little bit. The scenery sucks." He grinned briefly. "Sorry, no pun intended."

Eve's lips twitched in amusement, and Mel almost smiled. Spencer just groaned. "Boyd, do you have to?" he asked.

"Yes, he does," Ralf replied before anyone else could.

Boyd's grin didn't diminish until he started talking again. He quickly told the Vampyres about Linda's flight, Frankie's beating, and Felix's death. "I would say that you were lucky," he said to Stella and Eve.

"Again," Kat muttered.

In a single, fluid movement, Boyd had strode to her, grabbed her throat and hauled her clean off her feet. "This stops now. You were there last night, you heard everything, and if you have as much intelligence as I think you do, you understand what it all means. If you can't try to overcome your hatred, then you have no place in this team." He paused. "Although you do realise that I can't let you live with what you know, don't you?"

An oppressive silence filled the room, but no one moved, except for breathing, and even that was shallow. Kat stared at the Lycan Elder for a while, her gaze registering pure hatred at first, which slowly gave way to incredulity and then fear. And then...

"Boyd, I think you're choking her," Eve remarked mildly, lighting up a cigarette.

"How do you know that isn't the idea?" Boyd asked.

Eve just shrugged. "I felt as though someone should point it out, and since everyone else is opting for silence, I thought I would be the messenger."

Slowly, Boyd turned his head to look at the pale Vampyre, as though trying to ascertain the sincerity of her words. Having never looked at her properly, he was surprised at the depth of perception in her eyes, the sharpness held there, and the mischief. And just as slowly, his gaze locked on Eve's, who never even blinked, he lowered Kat down. "Don't think for one second that I'm bluffing," he told his subordinate.

"It seems we also have a problem with some of our younglings," Ralf said, continuing as though nothing had happened.

"Unhappy? Overly angry? Like teenagers with a heavy dose of angst?" Spencer asked, and the Vampyres nodded. "We're having a similar problem." He looked over at Boyd. "I think that scenery you were talking about it coming into full view now."

"Jackie and Harry both want to ruin me, but now they've been exposed as traitors, the only way to do that is a full scale war," Grace said. "They had already started to prepare the younger Vampyres before they were outed, but the damage is too extensive to repair, I feel."

"Linda did the same with the Lycans," Kat replied. "She even tried it with me, but my loyalty to Boyd, and the Lycan pack, is too strong. Stronger than my...dislike of Vampyres. The others, though, are not like me, to which you might say 'thank Blood for that'..." That comment earned a dry smile or two. "...But that does leave us with a massive problem."

"Open warfare...again," Stella remarked, shaking her head. "How do we stop this insanity before it escalates?"

"Strength and intelligence," Mel said. "We need to be quicker and smarter than the ones we're fighting, and we need to work together, without questioning each other every two seconds. We need to trust each other, and that in itself is asking an awful lot."

Ralf nodded. "But I doubt Jackie and Harry would be expecting such a tactic."

"Neither would Linda," Boyd added.

"Then we have the start of a plan." Spencer ran a hand over his head. "I suppose the best thing is for us to share information about the ones we're after, and our security measures, both for the den and the Hall, and any battle tactics which may be useful."

Mel and Kat sighed at the same time. "This means coffee," they both said.

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The hours of darkness were few when the meeting finally came to an end. "There is just one final piece of business," Ralf said.

"I hope it's quick," Spencer remarked with a smile.

Ralf's answering smile was mysterious, as was his reply. "I hope not. Though telling you about will certainly not take long."

"What is it?" Eve asked, stretching.

"Boyd, you know how to get the Blacklight power, yes?" Ralf asked, and the Lycan Elder nodded. "It has to be tonight. As soon as it is dark, you will come here to collect Grace. She will have the location of the room where the...union has to take place. There is no special reason except that its locality is only known to the Elders and no one else. You will both need the strength to deal with what is to come; I know this is quick, but it can't be delayed any longer."

Boyd grinned. "I don't think the quickness is a problem."

"Speak for yourself," Grace replied archly.

"On that note, we'll be off," Kat said, hurrying towards the exit.

When they reached the outside door at the side of the Hall, the Vampyres held back, except for Grace, who seemed intent on making sure Boyd actually got into the car. But before Spencer and Kat entered the vehicle, the dark-skinned Lycan made a fist and pressed his fingers to the left side of his chest, bowing to Ralf. It was the ultimate sign of respect, and he then did the same to Grace. Kat scanned the faces of the Vampyres slowly, before inclining her head once to Ralf and Grace; the other three she viewed indifferently, which Boyd thought was a definite improvement.

"We'll be in touch," Spencer said, ushering Kat to the car.

Boyd nodded to all the Vampyres, words not need, and then looked at Grace. "So..."

She walked slowly towards him, aware her colleagues had retreated to the safety of the Hall and that Boyd's were deliberately not paying any attention to them. "So...I'll see you tonight."

Boyd took hold of Grace's hand and kissed the palm, his smouldering eyes never leaving hers. "I look forward to it," his said, his voice hoarse with longing.

Grace sighed. "If not for the daylight, I would take you right now," she told him huskily.

His replying grin was feral. "It's alright for you, you'll be asleep. Have a care for me, awake all day with only the thought of you to keep me company." Then he paused. "Although..."

"What?" Grace asked suspiciously.

Boyd's whole expression was so primal that the exponent found herself gasping in anticipation of the next evening. "It means I'll have all day to think of everything I want to do with and to you in..." He made a show of thinking. "... Roughly eight hours."

For a moment, Boyd thought Grace was actually going to jump him and he unconsciously braced himself. But then her face relaxed and she just smiled at him. "Good day, Boyd," she said, turning and walking away, swinging her hips in such an outrageous way Boyd knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a damned thing for the rest of the day.

Not that it mattered. Grace had just shown him that she could play the game just as well as he could; she certainly wasn't going to just fall into a submissive role, nor would he want her to. Allowing himself to grin openly, he decided that sleep might not be a bad idea. He was certain he would need to be very wide awake for that evening's...entertainment.

TBC


	19. Nineteenth Giving

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Boyd unlocked the door to reveal an ornately decorated room that was lush with its furnishings and large enough to fit a dozen or so others besides themselves, and he idly wondered if it had ever been used that way. Then he shook his head. What was he thinking? He certainly wasn't sexless, but never had his mind wandered to such thoughts before.

Grace, for her part, was having similar ideas, specifically containing the numerous surfaces in the room, and with great difficulty, she channelled her energy into stopping herself from blushing, though the fear of turning crimson wasn't solely contained to her wild thoughts. She was only just now realising that she was alone with Boyd, and what was required of them that night.

He had picked her up from the Hall not a half hour after sunset, his expression unreadable, his emotions held tightly in check. Grace could sense nothing from him, though her own feelings were a jumbled mass, not allowing her to concentrate properly. Silently she handed him the paper containing the directions to their destination, and silently he drove, not even once looking in her direction. Her gut feeling told her something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, and she didn't dare voice her unfounded concerns.

If Grace had bothered to look hard enough at Boyd, she would have found his expression mirrored hers; his lips were pursed tightly together, his face filled with a certain tautness. He too felt something was wrong, but not in a malevolent sense. It was difficult to explain, and so he simply kept quiet. And when they had arrived at the place, Boyd let Grace go first, his hand hovering over the small of her back.

And now they were in the room, locked from the inside, no one to disturb them, no matter what happened outside. Only Ralf knew where they were, and both doubted he would disclose their location, even under pain of death. Anything that should happen that night would have to be dealt with without them.

They stood mere feet from each other, but the distance felt like a lifetime, and as their eyes connected, each knew the other felt it too. It was unclear who moved first, but they met in the middle, his hands going around her waist, her fingers sliding in his hair, their lips crashing together. It was anything but romantic, but neither of them cared. As their tongues battled ferociously, both seemed to be drinking each other in as though they had been parched for too long. It was almost like two lovers who had been apart for an age and were now back together.

Somehow, Boyd's jacket and shirt found themselves pooled on the floor at his feet before he came back to his senses. "We do have all night, you know," he remarked with a smile.

"Yes, I do know, and I intend to keep you very busy for as long as possible," Grace replied, her eyes smouldering as her nails raked through the hair on his chest.

Boyd growled loudly. "Blood, woman, you're going to kill me!"

Grace's eyes darkened to almost midnight blue. "I'm certainly going to try," she murmured, dragging his head down to her level for another bruising kiss.

"Is that so?" Boyd asked in a low voice, deciding now was an ideal opportunity to even the score a little.

As a touch of passion entered the kiss, Grace lost herself in it, paying no attention to what Boyd's nimble fingers were up to, and it was only when the cool air breezed over her nipples, peaking them, that she realised he had divested her of some clothes.

"Oh!" She gasped, pulling apart and looking down at herself, then back at him in embarrassment.

"Too late to be shy," Boyd said with a grin, his hands reaching for her hips, pulling her towards him. But instead of going for her lips, he started on her ears, causing her to grown loudly and press her whole body against him, her fingers clawing their way slowly down his back.

She could feel every muscle beneath the skin, every ripple every time he moved, but more than that she could sense his power. She could sense the chained beast waiting to be set free, and the amount of energy he put into making sure that didn't happen.

"Are you a virgin?" Boyd asked, suddenly stopping his ministrations to her neck to voice the question.

Grace looked surprised for a moment, her train of thought interrupted and her body instantly missing his touch, but then she laughed, unable to prevent herself from chuckling over the absurd naivety behind the inquiry. Then she saw his expression harden and she sobered, putting her hand gently on his cheek.

"No, of course not," she said in a soothing tone. "What made you ask that?"

"You seem afraid," he replied after a beat.

Grace looked surprised again, his perceptiveness not something she had associated with his character, but this time she didn't laugh. "Yes, I am," she admitted.

"Why? Of what?" Boyd asked.

She caressed his cheek with her thumb. "Of you."

"Me?"

She nodded. "You don't realise the power you exude, Boyd. It's raw, sometimes purely animalistic. Don't get me wrong, it's a definite turn on," Grace said with a smile. "And I do trust you or I wouldn't be here. But I can tell how hard you work to keep in control of yourself, to keep your inner beast chained, so to speak, and if you ever lost that control completely..."

"I would never hurt you," Boyd told her, taking her hands in his. "I couldn't. It...it would be like...hurting myself."

Grace stared at him for a moment, then pulled him towards her for a long, deep, slow kiss. "Are you scared?" she asked, mostly in jest.

"A little," he replied.

Her expression turned incredulous. "Why?"

"I'm afraid I might love you too much."

Grace could only stare at him for a moment, and then gently, she stroked Boyd's cheek, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, and she pulled his head down again, but not for a kiss. She pulled until it was resting on her shoulder, and she turned her head so it was resting in the crook of his neck. Both breathed in deeply and evenly, as though trying to inhale the infinite tenderness of the moment, as though it would never come again.

But slowly, as single rain drops fill a water jug, their passion began to rise, and Boyd pulled Grace's body flush again his, turning his head to continue his ministrations to her neck, though in a more determined matter. Grace knew she would be covered in marks by the morning, but she didn't care, as long as he didn't *stop*. Her own hands were busy, running up and down his back again, as though memorising the contours, but that didn't seem quite right. It was almost as though she was *reacquainting* herself with an old friend.

Then Boyd began to trail open mouthed kisses down her arm and Grace just stopped thinking. When he reached her elbow, he kissed the inside of it, his tongue darting out, and she gasped. It was one of her most sensitive spots; he was very good indeed if he had guessed that. And then he reached her hand, kissing each finger gently and then the palm, before his eyes found hers.

"So, which part of the room should we make use of first?" Boyd asked, his eyes smouldering dangerously, a reflection, she knew, of her own desire which was beneath the surface but still held in check. For the moment. Grace didn't think it would stay that was for very long.

The exponent's hands came around Boyd's sides and slide downwards, passing close to his groin without actually touching him. "Why don't we be boring and start with the bed?"

Slowly, Boyd began to walk forwards, making Grace go backwards. She knew exactly what he was doing; it was all about control, about how much she was willing to give to him over the situation, and over that night. But the exponent had already decided; she would give Boyd anything he wanted. Not only because of what Ralf had told her, but because she *wanted* to.

Unbeknownst to Grace, Boyd was also thinking the same thing. He knew he would have to give up a measure of control that night if he were to receive the Blacklight power, but every time he had thought of that idea in the past, he had scoffed harshly at it, and if it had actually been suggested to him... The resulting fireworks were indeed on a grand scale and not of the good kind. But as he gently forced Grace in the direction of the bed, he realised that with her and for her, he would give up every ounce of control within him; he would surrender to whatever she wanted from him.

The expression on Boyd's face must have shifted because Grace's brow furrowed slightly and she held her hand up, palm out to him, and he stopped obediently. The exponent's eyes widened then, her frown lines disappearing, and in a moment of clarity, she understood what was going through the tec's mind. Taking a deep breath, she turned her hand around and slowly beckoned him towards her. And without hesitation, he complied. And she knew – *she knew* – that after that night, they would be able to tackle anything that was thrown their way.

And then Grace didn't have time to think any more as Boyd had once again taken the initiative, moving straight into her personal space and forcing her to sit down on the bed. He then bent down, each hand either side of her, and leant forwards, forcing her back on the bed until she was lay down. For a brief moment, he just looked her, and she felt a thrill go through her at the intensity of his gaze before he began to move, assaulting every patch of skin he could find with his lips and tongue. He paid particular attention to her breasts, gently raking his teeth over her nipples until she begged him to stop.

"No...more!" Grace said between gasps, her writhing subsiding as he paused in his ministrations.

Boyd propped himself up on his knuckles once more and gazed down at the woman beneath him. *The woman*. He hadn't thought of her as a rival, an enemy, or even a Vampyre. Just...woman. He smiled and leaned to one side, bringing one hand up to brush her cheek tenderly.

"You might want to hold on to something," he murmured, kissing her briefly before retreating down her body and gently parting her legs.

Grace didn't have time to argue with him or even consider what was about to happen before she felt the rest of her clothes being removed and Boyd's hot breath on the inside of her thighs, his fingers stroking her calves and the backs of her knees as he lifted her legs over his shoulders. The next thing she felt was his nose nuzzling her and then her world exploded in feeling.

*"Blood!"* she swore as Boyd's tongue slowly mapped her most sensitive area in the most loving manner.

The small part of Grace's brain that could still think was trying to remember a time when she had felt so much pleasure, or even so *alive*. A dim recollection, a memory from times long past, swam briefly in the murky waters of her mind, but she soon gave up trying to capture it; Boyd's tongue was driving her far past the edge of reason and well into the realms of complete abandonment as she fisted the sheets. The impulse was to reach for him, to bury her fingers into his hair and hold his head into place, especially when his tongue dipped inside her.

For his part, Boyd was having a hard time controlling himself. His urge was to rip the rest of his clothes off and plunge into her without a second thought, his erection straining painfully against the fabric it was contained within, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task in hand. The problem, however, was Grace herself. She was so damned receptive to his ministrations, more so than any other woman he had ever been with, and if she made so many small noises while he was doing *this*, what would she do if he...? Boyd shook his head, silently berating himself for allowing his mind to wander, while Grace groaned. Smirking, he shook his head again, slower this time, and the exponent murmured loudly. She was close, so close, he could tell, ever fibre of his being so in tune with her that his very bones ached to be near her.

Without warning, Boyd's tongue began to move faster, circling and dipping, until Grace abandoned all control over herself, reaching down for his head and fisting his hair in a brutal fashion, her fingernails ripping holes in the sheets as her body spasmed and she cried out incoherently. Boyd found himself shaking in the wake of her orgasm, and with trembling fingers, he stroked her legs until she calmed.

Grace felt her vision clearing and with it, a sense of almost completion. She touched Boyd's cheek, her gaze locking with his, and she beckoned him upwards, his body covering hers like a blanket as he moved. As they kissed, she dragged her nails roughly down his back, seemingly attempting to score it, making Boyd arch towards her, his caged erection pressing into her.

"I think we need to do something about that," she murmured, pushing him to his feet.

With nimble fingers, Grace divested him of the rest of his clothing before slowly lowering herself to her knees, her eyes never leaving Boyd's, and she was amazed by the fire held there, like a blazing inferno barely kept in check. Slowly, deliberately, she let her gaze travel down his body until she reached the prize in front of her. She licked her lips and heard him groan, which pleased her, but it was a task she wasn't looking forward to; with anyone else, it was something she wouldn't even consider, having tried it a few times during her life and hating it on each occasion. But Ralf had told her this was a give and take situation, so Grace was prepared to give Boyd this.

But before her tongue could touch his tip, he pulled back. Surprised and confused, Grace looked up to find Boyd's hands stretched out to her.

"You looked like you would rather sunbathe all day than give me a blow job," he said wryly.

"I'm sor-..." She was silenced by his finger on her lips.

"Don't be. It's okay." His grin was feral. "There's plenty more we can do."

They kissed passionately, and as Grace felt his erection poke her in the stomach, an idea came to her, something she was at least willing to try. Pulling back, she turned and walked towards the desk, deliberately swishing as she went. Once she reached her destination, Grace placed her hands on the wood, spread her legs slightly, and slowly bent over.

She heard Boyd growl and smiled, but then gasped in shock as she felt his hands grip her hips. He had moved so silently, so quickly, and she shuddered at the thought of the strength he possessed.

"Grace," he said in a low voice, his hands brushing up and down the sides of her thighs.

"It's okay, Boyd. Really." Grace pushed back a little.

Boyd growled loudly, the sight of her creamy skin alone driving him crazy, especially with what she was offering him. It was the ultimate act of domination for him and the animal within gloried in the power he had over this woman. But he also knew it was the ultimate act of sacrifice for Grace, giving up everything to him, and while he longed to surrender to his beast, he didn't.

Grace felt him grab her shoulders and spin her round, his lips crashing into hers ferociously, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, tweaking them into peaks. While one hand caressed her breasts, the other skimmed over her stomach and slipped between her thighs.

"Grace," he moaned.

She threw her head back and pushed her hips forward, her hand seeking out his throbbing member. She flicked her thumb over the tip, then slid her whole hand down his shaft. Boyd was instantly distracted, his hands stilling as he felt the waves of pleasure ripple through his body.

"Enough," he finally murmured.

Smiling, Grace withdrew her hand and as soon as she did, he lifted her easily onto the desk, causing her to squeal a little in surprise. He positioned himself carefully between her thighs and guided his aching erection to her entrance. With one fluid motion, he sunk into her, growling as her legs came around his waist, pulling him in deeper. Their harsh gasps filled the air

"Grace," he murmured, a fine sheen of sweat starting to cover his body as he fought for control over his baser instincts.

"You don't need to be gentle with me, Boyd," she replied, her eyes the darkest shade of blue they had ever been, and deliberately she squeezed him.

He growled loudly, more loudly than before, as he pulled out and then pushed back in again, trying to fill her even more than before. Grace threw her head back, her corner teeth out and glistening pure white in the artificial light. Her fingers dug into his shoulder muscles as he set a steady, but agonisingly slow pace. Or at least that was how it felt to her. She didn't necessarily want to rush things, knowing that they had all night, but she also felt a desperate need in her to feel as joined as possible to the man in front of her. Sweat was now pouring down his back, hers as well, but their eyes connected and she saw the exact same need in his expression.

"Boyd," Grace moaned, her voice husky, needy.

Suddenly, again without warning, Boyd's hands shot from the desk to her buttocks, sliding underneath her and lifting her once more. Carefully he walked forwards, and as Grace didn't care where they were going, she decide to launch an offensive on his ears, but soon stopped when she felt the wall at her back, almost harsh in its solidness.

Boyd then grinned in the most feral way she had seen yet, his eyes black, his corner teeth out as well. "You had better hold on."

Grace's eyes widened for a fraction of a second but she heeded his warning, and not a moment too soon either. The pace he set was fast, almost painful, but she didn't care. And Boyd knew it. He had seen the look in her eyes, almost down to the depths of her soul, and he knew what she wanted. She didn't need to be treated as if she were fragile, but she did want to feel like the most wanted woman on the planet. And to Boyd, she was. He had never felt the same way about anyone else in his life, ever. It scared him and excited him in equal measures, but the time for thinking was quickly drawing to a close. He could feel his vision narrowing, feel himself growing closer to the edge, and the expression on Grace's face told him she was even closer.

White hot light suddenly exploded behind her eyes, all sounds fading to dull backgrounds noises, and suddenly, with startling clarity, Grace could see *everything*. The past, the future, and the clearness of what was *meant* to be. She understood it all, and more, and let herself succumb to the barrage of feelings.

Boyd saw Grace's expression, knew she had slipped into a semi-conscious state, and that was his own last conscious thought as he felt his body stiffen. Unable to help himself, he cried out, his voice guttural and harsh, unlike his thoughts and feelings. Memory upon memory tumbled through his mind like cascading water. Scenes he recognised, scenes he did but hadn't realised were his until he saw them, and some things he had never seen before in his life. But none of it worried him; it was as if a floodgate had been opened, and untapped potential he had barely been aware was within him suddenly came gushing out. And in his arms was the cause of it all; the reason behind his past, his present, and his future. Grace. Unconsciously, Boyd held her a little tighter, dimly aware she was gripping his shoulders in response.

Neither were sure how long they had stayed in that position, but both were acutely aware of the presence of the other, knew when they had come back to themselves, neither willing to break the mood.

"Wow," Grace said eventually, sounding very out of breath.

Boyd pulled his head back a little from its comfortable position on her shoulder to raise his eyebrow and look at her. "Wow? Is that a professional term?"

"If you want my professional opinion on what just happened – and I mean *precisely* what just happened – you'll have to wait until I've formed it," she replied.

Boyd smiled and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. "I know exactly what you mean."  
And Grace knew that he did; she could tell from the depths of his eyes. "Now what?"

"We still have a little time left before it gets light," he said, carefully walking them over to the bed. After some manoeuvring, they both lay on their sides facing each other, their hand entwined between them.

"You're bleeding," Grace said in surprise, feeling her corner teeth coming back out at the sight of crimson.

Boyd touched his fingers to the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Only a little."

"Did I...?"

He then pressed the pads of his fingers to the same spot on Grace's neck, bringing them away red. "I think we both did."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Grace asked. "Us biting each other?"

Boyd smiled. "We'll soon find out."

She sighed and murmured, "Things are moving so quickly."

He nodded. "I don't know when we'll be together again, but we *will* be together. I promise you."  
'*We* will *be together. I promise you.*' The words echoed in Grace's mind, stirring up the already muddy waters of her thoughts. "I trust you," she replied.

Boyd sighed. "I wish we could stay like this."

Grace smiled at his sentimentality. "You know we can't. Perhaps later..."

"I know, I know. It's just that...now I've found you, I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

*'I don't want to lose you.' 'You won't.'* Boyd inhaled sharply, the words provoking his mind to recall...something. "Is is possible...?" he muttered.

"Are you alright?" Grace asked in concern.

"I think so. I'm not sure. But now isn't the time to talk about it."

"Is this how it's always going to be? Keeping secrets?"

"I don't know," Boyd replied honestly. "I hope not. It's just...we have to concentrate on the task in hand, keeping both our races safe. We are now the guardians of the Lycans and Vampyres; that's a heavy burden for anyone to bear."

"It's a good job we have each other," Grace said with a smile before burrowing into his embrace, making the most of the rest of their time together.

TBC


	20. Twentieth Morning

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Boyd would have liked to say that he awoke slowly and lazily, enjoying the feel of the woman in his cocooned in his arms, but it would have been a serious lie. He awoke with a start, coming to full consciousness in a matter of seconds, all senses alert for what had disturbed him. But a few moments of lying in silence told him it was no specific noise, nothing at all that should have woken him, and with a sigh, he settled back into his lover's embrace.

His lover.

Even to his ears, it sounds strange and yet so familiar, and...

With a strangled noise, Boyd rolled easily from the bed, disentangling himself from Grace without any effort at all, and padded quickly to the window, pulling the curtain carefully back. The sky was slowly turning colour, becoming more inky blue as the minutes passed, paler sky rising on the horizon.

"Almost too late," he murmured to himself, letting the curtain fall seamlessly back into place as he walked back over to the bed. He was prepared to just shake Grace's shoulder gently and then turn away to allow her the dignity of getting out of bed without him watching. She was shy, he knew, and he could tell it would take a while to break that mindset. But he was prepared to wait, to be patient, which in itself spoke volumes of what he thought of this woman.

But when he saw her looking so peaceful, he found himself unable to disturb her, even though he knew he had to. Grace had one arm underneath the pillow, the other tucked under her chin; moments earlier, it had been enclosing Boyd's. Her golden hair, short though it was, was splayed on the pillow like the rays of sunshine that would soon be spilling into the room. Her shoulder was bare, the rest of her covered, and with a smile, Boyd settled on top of the blanket behind her, propped himself up on one elbow and just watched. Grace's face was so serene in sleep, it was like she was a sculpture or painting with her ethereal beauty.

The Lycan Elder then pulled a face. Poetry had never been a favourite of his at any time in his life; the only literature he could stand was the Tempest. And the fact he was thinking in such flowery terms... It was sickening at the least, an offence punishable by death at the worst. But despite the out of character thoughts, he knew Grace was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, knew she was the love of his life. It was as simple as that. Lazily, Boyd leaned over and trailed his fingers from the hand curled under her chin, up her arm to her shoulder, zigzagged up her neck, and then caressed her cheek.

"Mmmm," Grace murmured sleepily.

Boyd couldn't help but grin. "While I would happily let you carry on slumbering, or even wake you up in a much more pleasant manner, we haven't got the time," he said regretfully.

To his surprise, Grace smiled, stretched her body out from under the covers and turned over to face him, the blanket now resting snuggling around her waist, her breasts free for him to stare at. Which he did, unabashedly. And which she didn't seem to mind.

"While I find the attention flattering," she said after a few moments, and something in her voice made Boyd look up, "I hope this isn't an indication of how things are going to be between us."

"Of course not," he replied, leaning in to kiss her, and with the meeting of their lips, he felt his passion starting to stir. Grace, rather pointedly, broke away and looked downwards. "What were you just saying?"

She shrugged. "I'm allowed to stare; you don't feel self-conscious."

Boyd cupped her face and kissed her again. "Neither should you."

"I don't," Grace admitted. "Not now, not with you. I don't know why."

"Just take it as a good thing and don't over analyse it," he told her.

"Hmm. Now, what were you saying about not enough time?"

Boyd's expression turned grave in an instant. "The sun will be up soon. You need to go."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked coyly.

His smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "As much as I would like to say 'no'..."

"...The answer is 'yes'." Grace sighed. "I know, it's just..."

Boyd pulled her roughly, suddenly to him, so she was flush against his body, and kissed her passionately. He felt himself responding in the most obvious way, but he didn't care. He felt the need to reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere, despite the fact that, for now at least, they had to be apart; or perhaps it was himself he was reassuring, making a promise he vowed silently never to break. No matter what, they would be together until death.

The promise sounded like deja vu.

"Soon," he said, his voice hoarse.

Grace cupped his cheek, running her thumb over the contours of his face, watching the rapid change of emotion in his eyes, like heated mercury. "I know. But for now..."

"...We have to go."

They dressed somewhat hurriedly, but their eyes never left each other's, as though they were afraid they would never see each other again.

The fear felt like deja vu.

As Boyd unlocked the door, his nostrils flared and his brow instantly creased into a frown. Noticing his expression change, but more so feeling the tension flood his body, Grace put a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

"A visitor," he replied tersely, opening the door and striding outside, leaving the exponent to lock up. At the bottom of the stairs stood Spencer, and Boyd knew immediately that something had happened from the tightness in his second's face. "Tell me."

Spencer's eyes flickered only briefly towards Grace, who was approaching right behind the Lycan Elder. "Riots," he said, his voice betraying his weariness. "Lycans killing Vampyres, Vampyres killing Lycans, in the streets, no heed of boundaries or civilians."

Boyd swore long and hard, but Grace only frowned. "Why now?" she asked curiously. "And why didn't Ralf stop them?"

Spencer stared at her, as if gauging what type of response he could get away with giving. Finally, he gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, as though satisfied with his decision. "If last night was successful, and I'm thinking it was, that would make *you* the new Vampyre Elder," he replied, starting to walk away.

But neither Boyd nor Grace were offended; they knew that they had very little time before the sun rose, and until they knew the extent of the exponent's new powers, neither were willing to risk even a stray ray of light touching her skin.

"And if you are the new Elder, Ralf has no more authority," Spencer continued, stopping as he reached the car.

For a moment he stood stock still, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed forwards. Boyd could feel anger seeping into his muscles, tensing his frame and sharpening his mind as he opened his mouth to berate his second-in-command. But the faintest of touches on his arm – a touch that was like a jolt of electricity, like lightning in a bottle, in his heightened state of awareness – made his tongue still, bringing raw memories of the previous night to the forefront of his mind, every sensation fresh in his consciousness.

Spencer suddenly turned, his eyes both haunted and bright at the same time. "Can you stop them?" he asked, his tone gentle but blunt. "Because to be perfectly honest, if they wouldn't conform to Ralf's rules, they certainly aren't going to listen to you."

Boyd growled loudly and took a step forward, but Grace's touch on his arm became a vice-like grip. "He's right," she said quietly. "But I don't have the time to think about it properly or discuss it right now."

There was a slight hitch in her voice that neither Lycan missed and they turned to see the sky turning a sooty blue on the horizon. "Shit," Boyd muttered.

"In the car. Now," Spencer ordered.

He drove as speed, not bothering about who noticed, as the atmosphere inside the vehicle grew steadily more oppressive. Boyd's concern over Grace was manifesting itself as red anger, though in part it was; the renegade Lycans were now his responsibility, but he had no idea how to deal with them. His only solution was an extreme, unthinkable one, and suicidal as well. And as much as he wanted to talk it over with Grace, as she had just pointed out, there's wasn't time. Spencer was concentrating solely on driving, the events of the last few days still not sorted properly in his mind, the events of that very night a muddy whirlpool of thoughts. Everything had changed, not just Boyd becoming the new Elder, but the suddenly eruption of tensions with the pack and between the Lycans and the Vampyres. And then there was Grace...

The unknowing object of both men's thoughts, though in very different ways, was oblivious to everything except the beating of her own heart sounding like thunder in her chest. She had never been out of the coven for so long, seen daylight in such close quarters for so very long, not since...

She shook her head slightly. Not here, not now. She could not afford to be daydreaming. More pressing matters filled her mind, such as how to deal with the current situation and to her consternation, she couldn't think of one single solution.

But then a more urgent thought overtook everything else. "Spence?" she asked, unaware of the boundary she had just so blatantly crossed, trepidation colouring her tone. "Is Ralf...?"

"As far as I know, he's still alive. But as I said, if last night was successful..."

"I am the new Elder." It wasn't just a completion of the Lycan's sentence, it was a statement, and an answer to his question.

"Stop the car," Boyd said suddenly.

"But...," Spencer started to protest.

"Now!" he roared.

The brakes screeched as the car skidded to a halt and Boyd had the door open before the vehicle had stopped. "Boyd?" Grace questioned him.

He hesitated halfway out of the car, his mind intent on following his instincts, but his heart was shouting loudest for a change. He leant back in, taking Grace's hand in his. "Trust me," he murmured as he pulled her towards him, brushing her lips with his. "Spence will look after you; he'll get you home safe. And tonight, I'll be waiting for you outside the Hall when you wake up. Now go." With a curt nod to Spencer, Boyd shut the door of the car with more force than was necessary and melted into the shortening shadows of the encroaching day.

"Do you know where he is going? Or what he is doing?" Grace asked quietly once they were moving again.

Spencer smiled grimly. "I'm afraid not. And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to know.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd slunk through the streets, cursing the unusual brightness of the day. The sun was blazing down, passed by the occasional cloud, and he found himself hating it with a passion. All it served to do, apart from make his tracking progress more difficult, was to remind him of time lost, time he could have been spending with Grace, if only...

It didn't matter, it was a pointless exercise. She wasn't there with him; hopefully, she was fast asleep, or however Vampyres rested up, by then. The thought caused Boyd to smile wryly, that of Grace hung upside-down in a cavern with her arms folded across her chest like a bat. He wondered how she would react to that assessment if he were to share it with her.

But now he had more pressing matters at hand. Spotting his adversary was a stroke of luck, or at least he prayed that was it. If Spencer – or Kat, or a number of others, for that matter – knew what Boyd was doing, he would have met with strict resistance. As it was, Spencer was far too weary to notice or to care, and being charged with Grace's safety made the dark-skinned Lycan focus more on that than the Lycan Elder's behaviour.

And then suddenly, there was no more time for thoughts as his prey was right in front of him. With a quick movement, he had Linda pinned against a wall with one arm. "Whatever you're planning, it stops now," Boyd told her in a low voice.

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she started to struggle against him. "Let me go!"

"Stop moving or I *will* hurt you."

Linda laughed loudly. "You have no idea what it means to be hurt, Boyd! No idea!"

"Linda..."

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to reveal our plans?" She laughed again, a sound more than a little tinged with hysteria. "I won't tell you anything! It doesn't matter anyway, you'll find out soon enough."

With a savage shriek, Linda turned suddenly, using all of her strength in rage to push Boyd away from her and startled, he took a step back, the momentum from both actions propelling him arm's length from her. Seemingly without a second thought, her other arm swung around, her fingers aiming for his face. Boyd tiled his head back, out of reach of her talons, but too late he realised his mistake. With another shriek, this time full of triumph, her nails extended to short, sharp claws, tearing into his throat and shredding the skin and flesh away. Blood smell filled Boyd's nostrils, the sickening realisation it was his own coming to him only after he had sunk to his knees. The night's excursions, the lack of sleep, and overall recent events conspired against him to rob him of his strength in the critical moment, leaving him defenceless at the hands of a madwoman.

Linda loomed over him, her eyes wild. "Don't look so frustrated, Boyd," she almost purred. "I'm not going to kill you...yet. First I'm going to destroy you from the inside out, and that means starting with your little...'doxy'." The last word was spit out in disgust. "I promise I'll leave her alive enough for you to find, but not so much that you'll actually be able to save her." Linda bent a little, bringing her face closer to Boyd's but not close enough to be within striking distance. "You have caused me more suffering than you know. And now it is time for me to exact my revenge."

She stepped back and aimed a sharp, swift kick to his head. Unable to respond quickly enough, the impact caught Boyd squarely on the temple. As he pitched sideways, his thoughts were all on Grace. How well protected was she in daylight hours? How extensive was the Hall's security? He had to get there, get to her, to protect her...only he couldn't move. Inky black seeped into the edges of his vision, his ears rang, and his heart seemed to beat slower.

*Grace.*

He *would* live, Boyd made himself promise in silence, if only to see her again.

If she was still alive by the end of the day.

If he was.

If...

TBC


	21. Twenty First Plan

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He opened his eyes warily, groggily. A sharp intake of breath took that same breath away, made him swear quietly, but the voice that spoke the words was not his own. With a small frown, he tried to recall what had happened, even where he was.

"Grace."

Who had spoken, he wondered? Who had dared to use her name?

"I can't decide if that's a good sign or not," a voice remarked dryly.

He tried to sit up, growling in pain as his neck flexed, but no help was forthcoming. Finally he managed to make himself comfortable and focussed blearily on the owner of the voice. "Spence."

The dark-skinned Lycan nodded. "And you are?"

He glared. "Boyd."

Spencer held his hands up. "Don't shoot the messenger. Jess asked me to check you had all your memories intact. That was a rather sharp kick you sustained to your head."

"Linda," Boyd snarled.

Spencer frowned. "We know you're good with names, but is there any chance I could hear a longer sentence from you?"

"How's Frankie? What time is it? Any more news? My throat hurts like a bitch," Boyd reeled off. "And piss off."

He laughed but quickly sobered. "That's more like it. We were seriously worried about you; Linda damn near ripped your throat clean out, you know."

"Yes, I can tell," Boyd replied wryly. "Healing well?"

Spencer nodded. "Jess says you'll be fine in a couple of days." He pulled a face. "She recommends rest. I said there was more chance of the world being taken over by zombies."

"I'm fine." And his voice sounded stronger already.

"In answer to your questions, Frankie should be on her feet in a few days. She's sleeping a lot, but healing well. Jess says that apart from a few scars, she'll be the same as before."

"Psychologically?"

Spencer shrugged. "Remains to be seen." He breathed deeply. "There's some news but nothing important. A few minor skirmishes, mainly between Lycans and humans, for obvious reasons, and a few Lycan on Lycan incidents, but nothing more. And hardly any information to suggest what the renegades are planning, either."

"Can you guess?" Boyd asked, his tone direct.

"I do have a theory," Spencer conceded, sighing. "It seems to be a well-known fact that you and Grace were together for the whole of the night. Don't ask, I don't know." He held up his hands to stop the inevitable questions. "The Vampyres want her out of the way, their hate fuelled by the two main instigators of this...rebellion, Jackie and Harry. They all believe that once Grace is Elder, she will enforce peace between us, making any attack against a Lycan punishable by death...or worse. And the Lycans feel the same about you." He grunted. "You know what Linda's like."

Boyd grunted in reply. "All too well."

The dark-skinned Lycan frowned slightly, rose slowly, and walked towards the Elder, his expression thoughtful. "Let me see your neck."

"If you were a Vampyre, I would be seriously worried."

Spencer chose wisely not to make a comment. "These wounds are healing at a phenomenal rate," he murmured. "Do you know why?"

"At a guess, I would say the Blacklight power, wouldn't you?" Boyd replied.

"If so, that puts you at an advantage."

"I believe that was the idea behind Thomas' death."

"What about Grace?"

Boyd frowned. "What about her?"

"Ralf is still alive."

"After last night, the Blacklight power will have left him and become part of her. He will die naturally, and probably quickly. I think he pines a great deal for Thomas," Boyd said quietly.

Spencer nodded. "And no one else knows about the Blacklight power."

The Elder shook his head. "As you said, an advantage, and a distinct one at that."

"You have a plan, and a suicidal one at that," Spencer said slowly, taking in Boyd's expression.

"You didn't answer my final question: what time is it?"

The dark-skinned Lycan acknowledged the sharp end of the conversation with a mere blink of his eyes. "Now, about a half hour from sundown. You have enough time to shower, shave and change into some decent clothes." He smiled slightly. "Don't worry, I wouldn't have let you over sleep. If there is one thing I've learned, it's to never keep a lady waiting."

For some reason, his words touched Boyd deeply, but it went against the very grain of his character to show his emotions. Instead, using a gruff tone, he replied, "What do you know about ladies, Spence? Seriously."

Spencer grinned. "Plenty, boss. I could even give you lessons."

"Spence."

"Yes, boss."

"Out."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"You're awake early."

"You don't seem surprised by it."

Ralf sighed. "I'm not."

Grace continued to stare out of the window, the last colour of day fading quickly, the sky turning from burnt orange, pink and red to deep purple, blue and black. She could not remember the last time she had seen such colour, at least not naturally. Since her turning, every pleasure nature had to offer with Her beauty eluded the exponent, who missed it more than she had realised. She had been startled to wake up to daylight, wondering it was another lucid dream, but the ground beneath her feet, cold to the soles, had felt more than real. And so quietly, lonely, she had watched the sun slowly sinking, taking its rest ready for the following day.

"Did this ever happen to you?" Grace asked finally, her voice soft and melancholy. If Ralf could see the tears coursing gently down her face, he made no mention of them.

"No."

His stark reply made Grace want to turn, but she was too aware of her painful expression. While they had not discussed a change in their relationship – they simply had no had the time – she was acutely aware that a change was there. Proverbial elephant in the room...how she had never understood that term, the irony of that statement alone enough to make her almost laugh out loud. And then she started as he took her hand, and she began to wonder if anything had actually changed at all, or whether it was all simply in her mind.

"There is not much time," Ralf said, also staring at the now-dark sky. "Before coming here to see you, I read through a handful of reports concerning what had been happening while we were asleep." He held a hand up. "Don't ask, it isn't important at this time."

"The Lycans...?"

"Have been surprisingly quiet during the last few hours," he continued. "I think they are waiting for their counterparts within our coven. But the reports indicate that whatever these...renegades are planning, it will happen tonight."

Grace finally turned to him, the tears merely dried tracks on her face now. "Tonight?"

Ralf smiled gently. "If you do not wish to see everything that you, and Boyd, hold dear destroyed, you must move tonight. There is no more time. Our...enemies are impatient, to say the least, and that alone makes them extremely dangerous. But they are also single-minded, and that makes them highly self-destructive. They will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. They have to be stopped."

"By me."

"And Boyd. I know last night was successful, and I do not," he said, holding one hand up and smiling again, "Wish to know any details. But the both of you will need the strength you now have, along with the strength you do not know you possess. And you will need each other. And, most important, you must do whatever needs to be done. This situation *has* to be resolved, no matter what. No matter the cost."

Grace turned fully and started to walk away from the window, without releasing Ralf's hand, forced him to trail partly behind her. "When this is over," she said as soon as they were both seated, "You *will* tell me everything, all the things you have hidden from me, and the reasons for doing so. I am truly to be Elder, I need to know."

Ralf sighed, his heart heavy, but she could not know what was in his mind at that time, and luckily for him, she interpreted his expression as one of weariness, not wariness. "Not 'be' Elder, you are the Elder," he replied. "And I promise to share the rest of the secrets with you...when this is over. Now, you must prepare yourself. I think I would be right in assuming Boyd will be arriving soon?"

Grace blushed slightly. "Yes, although where we go from here I do not know."

"I am certain the two of you will work it out. Now go."

His expression was filled with a certain amount of fondness as the exponent rose, brushed her lips against his temple briefly, and then left the room. He allowed the feeling to linger for a moment or two before the façade of it came crashing down around him, allowing his pain and suffering to show through. It was the only way, he knew it, had known it for a while, but now... Reality was a lot different to simply 'knowing' something. But he would wait; now was not the right time. Patience was an easy virtue at his age, though he doubted if someone like Boyd could ever master something as complex and time-consuming as patience.

The thought of the Lycan Elder made Ralf smile slightly. If he had the measure of the Lycan correctly, he knew what his plan would be. And if Ralf knew Grace at all, he knew she would agree to it. It was insane to say the least, suicidal if one was being remotely generous, but even that did not cover the sheer scale of the idea. There was no trick to Ralf's insight, no special way that he knew; he had simply put himself into both their positions and found that was the only solution. Noble sacrifices of varying kinds were required from them all, himself included, and he only hoped that history would remember theirs with reverence.

Ralf glanced at the clock on the wall. Soon, now. Soon.

TBC


	22. Twenty Second Decision

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In a surprisingly short space of time, the scene before them had become startlingly familiar; a room filled with Lycans and Vampyres not wanting to rip each other's throats out. Even Kat and Mel were on relatively civil terms...for them. Only Ralf was absent, the fact he wasn't present not commented on by anyone. Boyd and Grace were sat next to each other, not touching, but from their expressions, physical contact wasn't necessary.

The Lycans had arrived at the Hall just before night arrived completely, just before all the Vampyres were fully awake, slipping into the building without being noticed. Boyd had been mildly surprised to see Kat waiting with Spencer next to the car, and almost shocked to see who was in the car.

*"I thought you had been told to rest," he said to Frankie as he climbed into the vehicle.

"I could say the same about you," she replied with a slight smile.

"I don't know if you heard me or not while you were...unconscious, injured," he told her as the car started moving. "I spoke to you, about the past, about the future. I hoped that on some level, you would be able to take in what I was telling you. Whether you did or not, I suppose it doesn't matter now. But the one thing I didn't tell you was that...I am proud of you for the way you acted when dealing with Linda, and trying to protect Felix. I am proud that you are part of my pack."

Boyd's words were quietly spoken but even so they reverberated around the inside of the car. Spencer and Kat simply pretended not to notice. Frankie stared at the Lycan Elder for a while, her expression indicating she was seeing him for the first time, or so it seemed.

"That's why I'm here," she told him eventually. No other words were spoken after that; none were needed.*

As though drove, Boyd's thoughts hadn't been as completely focussed on Grace as he expected they would be. Under different circumstances, perhaps, but after Linda's attack, and her assurance that whatever she and the others were planning was going to come to fruition soon, possibly even that night. And he needed to stop her especially, before a major incident occurred, before too much blood was spilled on either side. But Boyd had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the night feeling oppressively ominous to him.

And now, the atmosphere in the room wasn't helping. The Lycans had explained about Linda's attack, no one present surprised when Grace insisted that she be the one to deal with the black-hearted bitch. And the Vampyres had shared their own information; the attack would be that night, but whether the renegades would attack both the Hall and the den separately or at the same time was unclear, and that was causing a minor debate amongst them.

"I don't see why Boyd can't stay at the den and Grace can't stay here," Eve suggested mildly.

But both Spencer and Mel shook their heads. "United we can stand against the enemy," the Lycan said.

"Divided we will fall," the Vampyre agreed. "We all have to stay together if we are going to survive."

"And what about the other Lycans who are loyal to us?" Kat asked. "And the Vampyres loyal to you? Are you willing to just let them die?"

Stella leant forwards. "Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved."

Frankie shook her head. "I'm not sure I can accept that."

"Weren't you the enemy at one point?" Mel asked, her tone mild but her question pointed.

Spencer regarded her calmly. "Weren't you?"

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Boyd said, his voice still rough from his attack, but carefully measured in its tone. "And to be perfectly honest, it isn't something that is up for debate. The decision is mine and Grace's, to be made alone. We are now the Elders of the Lycan pack and the Vampyre coven. That means like it or not, you do as we say. That goes for the rest of both our races, whether they are currently on our side or not. Allegiances change daily in a war like this. It cannot continue." He stood and extended his hand to Grace. "So that is what we're going to do. We're going to go and discuss the best way to end this...stupidity. Your only choices will be to follow our orders or join the other side."

Eve looked at Grace, her dark eyes searching, enquiring, piercing. "Don't you have anything to say on the matter?" Eve asked Grace.

The Vampyre Elder squeezed Boyd's hand, a gesture everyone could see. "I just did," she replied, leading the Lycan Elder from the room.

Spencer sighed. "Great. Now what do we do?"

Mel sighed as well. "Wait."

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Ralf sat at his desk, a single candle lighting the room. He was completely unaware of everything that was happening outside, but cognisance wasn't really needed. He knew the discussions that would be occurring, had a good idea what the ultimate plan for victory would be, could even postulate the changes in relationships which would happen. Again, his insight was no special trick, a simple result of his longevity, a lifetime spent watching various people in various situations. And because of that, he knew what was going on outside of his office. And it did not concern him. Not any more.

Ink dripped onto the page but Ralf ignored it. One blotch, one more mistake, would not make any difference to a lifetime of mistakes. And it was time to put it all behind him. His heart was weary, laden with a sorrow he couldn't even begin to describe, not just for the past, but for the future. His fingers were becoming tired, but he had more yet to do. He had promised answers and there was every possibility this was the only way Grace would ever receive them, by writing them down.

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"How long does this take?" Kat asked irritably as she tried to pace a trench in the floor.

Eve regarded her coolly through a haze of blue-grey smoke. "Patience, young one," she replied. "It takes as long as it takes."

Kat snarled, but Spencer interrupted before she could retort. "Settle down, Kat. Eve is right. And so was Boyd. There is nothing we can do but wait for them to reach a decision. This cannot be easy, for either of them. I don't think Grace can accept the fact that some Vampyres will have to die for the whole coven to survive, and despite the way he comes across, I know Boyd definitely won't be willing to accept that about our pack. Their decision, whatever it may be, will have long-lasting consequences for both races, so let's not rush them."

"How can we be sure that they aren't...?" Stella left the question hanging, blushing as furiously as her pale complexion would allow.

"Shagging?" Mel and Frankie supplied at the same time.

Eve shook her head. "Grace is much too...professional for that. She wouldn't allow her personal feelings to get in the way, not at a time like this. And I feel Boyd is the same."

"What about last night?" Kat asked sarcastically.

Frankie rolled her eyes. "That was completely different."

She had been filled in on events during the journey from the den to the Hall, Boyd having decided she was sufficiently trustworthy to be brought into the inner circle. Privately, Spencer still had some doubts, but he didn't voice them.

"We have bigger concerns," he said, allowing his gaze to travel slowly around the room, resting on each person's face for a few seconds at a time. It was then he realised completely that he was alone in a room full of women. For a moment, he felt like grinning insanely, but the thought didn't last long as he took in their expressions, and he made a mental note to make Boyd understand that this particular situation was to *never* happen again.

"How to deal with a united enemy, possibly on two fronts," Mel continued.

The other four women looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. Fate could be so blindingly obvious sometimes it was insulting.

"The way I see it, the six of us have to agree a pact," Eve said. "We have to agree to work in the best interests of our coven or pack, and our Elder. Because if we don't pull together as a team, then all is lost. Grace and Boyd both rely on us in this room. And if we can't put aside our differences to support them, then we might as well walk away now."

Spencer nodded, his dark eyes locking with Eve's. "I agree, and I will stand by Boyd no matter what. I always have and my loyalty isn't about to waver now. I also respect Grace, not just because of her connection with Boyd, but because of the person she is. What I've seen I like, and I will not hear a bad word spoken about her."

"My loyalty to Grace is the same as Spence's to Boyd," Mel spoke up. "And while I find Boyd gruff to the point of being arrogant, he has one important quality that I admire; the safety of his pack comes first to him. So I'm going to stand with him and Spence, as well as the Vampyres loyal to Grace."

"I'm with Eve," Stella said simply, and no one bothered to comment on the double meaning, unsure whether it was accidental or deliberate.

Frankie stared at the ceiling. "You know I was a part of this...plot to bring Boyd down; in fact, it was my idea. But this...this is something different. My vendetta against him is personal, and there will be a reckoning between us at some point, but I would never have supported actions that would be detrimental to my pack. In fact, I didn't. I changed sides because the greater ideals are more important that the individual ones. And if that means we have to work with the Vampyres, then that's what I'll do. After all, some of you actually seem to be quite good company."

Spencer smiled and nodded, as did the Vampyres, then the Lycan looked at Kat. "Well? What about you? Are you willing to put aside your animosity towards them for the greater good or should we just kill you now?"

Stella's eyes widened in shock, but both Mel and Eve smirked at the comment. Kat scowled and then sighed, thinking of Boyd and her unwavering loyalty to him, which now seemed to automatically extend to Grace, and by extension of her, certain Vampyres. She sighed again.

"All right, I'm in," she muttered grudgingly.

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The shadows were growing longer, the light fading fast, as was he. There was a risk he would be discovered before the end, but he hoped not. He did not want to think what would happen if that actually happened; actually, he was trying not to think at all. Not because he wanted to conserve his strength, but because he wanted to dream. Dream of fingers curling around his, of the wind ruffling his hair...of the sun, beating down on his skin.

*"Come to me."*

He was alone, he knew that, but the voice was real. Real, warm and welcoming, no hint of recrimination.

*"Your time is now. Come to me and I will care for you."*

Outside there was an almighty commotion starting, echoing off every surface possible, a sound like the very bricks themselves where coming apart. And he knew it had begun, knew that being discovered now would not happen. And safe in the knowledge that he was safe, he closed his eyes and surrendered.

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The explosion rocked the Hall and sent the six Lycans and Vampyres jumping to their feet, the Lycans in various states of change, the Vampyres with their eyes dark and corner teeth out.

"What in Blood's name was that?" Frankie asked, her eyes watering from the pain of moving suddenly.

Eve noticed her distress and helped her back to her seat. "I would guess that the attack has begun."

Spencer swore long and hard. "When you run out of words, I can help you with some new ones," Mel told him in a grim voice, her expression indicating she agreed whole-heartedly with him.

"Then we need to move," Kat suggested. "We can't just sit here and wait for the battle to come to us."

Stella nodded. "What about Grace and Boyd?"

"They will have heard that," Spencer said. "They should be back in any moment. A fight is one thing Boyd certainly will not miss."

But minutes ticked by and no appearance by either Elder. "I'll go and check where they are." Mel rose and looked around the room. "Kat, will you come with me, please?"

The young Lycan's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded and followed the blonde out of the room. "Frankie, you're in no condition for a death bout," Spencer told her. "I want you to go back to the Hall. Stella, will you accompany her please?"

"Of course," the Vampyre replied.

"Here are the keys to our car." He tossed the bundle to her. "Be careful."

"Spence!" Frankie protested.

"In Boyd's absence, I'm in charge. Do as you're told," he said irritably.

"Is that right?" Mel asked, re-entering the room, hers and Kat's expressions mirroring Spencer's tone.

"What is it?" Eve inquired, concern lacing her voice.

Kat growled. "Boyd and Grace have gone."

TBC


	23. Twenty Third Fight

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The stunned silence following Kat's announcement was only brief; while those gathered would have preferred a more lengthy tirade against their leaders, there simply wasn't time. The battle they were so ill-prepared for had literally exploded on their doorstep, and now they found themselves leaderless, just to add to the confusion.

Eve was shaking her head. "Grace wouldn't run away from a fight."

"Neither would Boyd," Frankie replied.

"So where are they?" Stella asked, rather pointedly.

Spencer paced in a short space, making his moves look frantic and jerky. "They must have gone back to the den," he said after a few seconds. "But *why*?"

The mixed shouts of anger, fear, alarm, and the bloody cry of battle grew louder and louder, forcing them finally into action. "We need to rally the Vampyres, explain that not all the Lycans are involved in this," Mel said, striding towards the door.

Kat was right beside her. "The...invasion, for want of a better word, is a mixed group. You're going to need our help to defeat them."

"What about the den?" Eve asked from her position next to Frankie. "Are we going to assume that at attack there is either imminent or already in progress?"

Spencer growled loudly, calling an end to the debate before it had properly begun. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that for now, we're here and the only way to leave is through that...rabble outside." He spat the word, showing what he thought of the rebels. "We need to work together in order to defeat that group, to protect both Lycans and Vampyres. That is our main priority, securing the Hall, and trying to get word to the Lycans in the den."

"Who in particular?" Frankie asked quietly.

"Stefan."

She sighed. "I'll go." She looked at Eve. "Can you get me out?"

Stella, who had been growing increasingly jealous of the closeness between her Vampyre and the Lycan, spoke up. "I can do it."

But Mel shook her head. "No. You have unfinished business with Harry. This may be the only time to conclude it."

Kat's eyes narrowed a fraction before she motioned for Stella to come closer. A hushed, somewhat one-sided conversation ensued, which ended with Stella looking a little sheepish and Kat's seemingly smug. "Eve will accompany Frankie," the Lycan said, glancing at the pale Vampyre.

Eve lit up a cigarette and shrugged. "If I'm right and there is fighting at the den, I won't be missing out on anything." She touched Frankie's arm briefly. "We should go now. They will cover our exit."

Frankie nodded in agreement, her mouth drawn in a tight line, her whole expression showing serious discomfort with the situation, at being forced to leave the main scene of the battle, but it had to be done. But as they reached the doors, Eve paused, then turned back to Stella. She didn't speak, just unleashed a devastating smile on the other Vampyre before leaving.

Kat's expression was one of extreme smugness.

Spencer was grim. "We had better get to it, then," he said. "I want Linda alive, if possible."

"The same goes for Harry and Jackie," Mel replied, looking at Stella. "If possible."

"I will try, but I make no promises."

"And if Eve is right?" Kat asked as they left the room. "If the bulk of the rebel force is actually at the den?"

"Then we are in for an extremely long night," Spencer replied dryly.

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It was chaos in the Hall, but in the presence of Mel, the Vampyres quickly realised what was happened. The Lycans present cowered somewhat when they saw Spencer and Kat storm into their midst with the Vampyres; they had seen little of Linda and without strong leadership, their courage was fast waning. Such weakness of character made Spencer's blood boil and before anyone knew what was happening, he had waded into the thick of the battle, throwing both Lycans and Vampyres aside like rag dolls.

The Vampyres who were opposing, however, were not so easily swayed from their goal and fought back with equal ferocity, forcing Mel and Stella to stand their ground, giving strength to those who battled for them. Kat needed only a small nod from Mel before she started to attack the Vampyres as well, her speed surprising her enemies, startling even Spencer, who noticed her skills even through his red haze of anger.

"Jackie!" Mel yelled, striding towards the dark-haired Vampyre.

Her eyes widened, her face draining so much of colour that her skin was almost translucent, her expression drawn and pained. "Mel. Please, I can explain. I never meant for any of this. It...it was an accident. It was only meant to be a stirring," she said. "A way to make sure we all knew what we believed in, nothing more."

The blonde Vampyre lashed out with the back of her hand, splitting Jackie's lip. "You lie! You have always been jealous of Grace, jealous because she has real talent while you can only make rough guesses which aren't even accurate half of the time!"

Jackie snarled, her expression shifting in an instant, and lunged for Mel. "Kat, help her!" Spencer roared over the din.

"No!" Mel shouted back. "This is my fight!"

"Afraid, are you?" Jackie taunted her.

"You have no idea what fear is, and I only wish I had to the time to teach you the meaning properly," the blonde Vampyre retorted angrily, lashing out once more.

But her attack was blocked, nails ripping into Mel's side, rending the flesh from her bones. Knees buckling, she went down, momentarily stunned but a moment was all the time needed. Jackie's arms stretched out for Mel's neck, her purpose clear, but she suddenly found herself flying through the air backwards, her chest burning but that pain forgotten when her back hit the hard floor.

Kat stood between the two Vampyres, one hand dripping in blood. "I don't think so. I don't know you and yet I know you are not worthy of such an easy victory over one such as Mel. In fact, you are not worthy of any sort of victory at all. For your own sake, I would stay down."

But Jackie rose shakily, the burning in her chest turning cold in a heartbeat, the pain dulling all her senses, but still she ignored the wound, launching herself at Kat, who stood stock still, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable attack, even possible death.

The strike never came.

Jackie's face seemed to hover in front of Kat's for a few seconds, her expression turning from anger to disbelief. Then a trickle of blood came from her nose, her chest heaved as though she was hiccuping, and crimson bubbles burst forth from her mouth. Mel's fingers had closed around Jackie's throat, the nails ripping into the skin and piercing her windpipe in several places. Kat watched coolly as the light left the Vampyre's eyes.

"It was too quick," Mel remarked distastefully. "Too easy."

"It weakens the rebels, it must be a good thing," Kat replied. She didn't thank the Vampyre, nor were thanks given in return. They simply weren't needed. "Let me look at that wound."

"It is healing. There will be time to be bandaged and looked after later," she said, shaking her head.

Spencer walked up to them, his brow shining with sweat from his exertions. "We need to split up if we are to find the leaders of this rabble."

"One has been dealt with." Kat nodded down at Jackie's lifeless body.

"That leaves us Linda," the dark-skinned Lycan said.

"And Harry," Stella all but spat.

Despite Mel's promise to the young Vampyre about settling her score with Harry, Spencer had doubts on her ability to deal with the one who turned her, for he had indeed discovered the reason for her animosity to the older Vampyre. And Spencer also knew that Kat was definitely not up to the task of dealing with Linda, despite her prowess in battle; in fact, he wasn't sure he could defeat the renegade Lycan himself.

"Kat, you go with Mel. Stella, stay with me," Spencer ordered, glancing at the blonde Vampyre to see if she objected. She remained silent. "If we need to meet, where shall it be?"

"The garage," Mel replied. "Kat."

"Do not come between myself and my goal," Stella said as she as they were alone.

Spencer regarded her expressionlessly. "I will let you fight your own battle without interference, but if I think you are losing, I will intervene. I don't think either Grace or Mel would want to lose you, and I don't think you want to give Harry the satisfaction of winning, do you?"

Aware how aggressive, and possibly out of order, she must have sounded, Stella blushed and dipped her head. "Of course. I..."

"Do not apologise and do not thank me," Spencer said, holding his hand up. "Let's wait until this is all over, as I imagine between us all, there will quite a score to settle."

Stella's gaze was one of elevated respect and she nodded slowly. "They have gone towards the sleeping quarters," she told him, looking around. "I think we should head for the dining area. There are many places for Harry to hide."

"Do you think he will?"

"Hide?" Stella thought for a moment. "No. It isn't nature to be a coward. Unfortunately. A sleaze, most definitely. But he will not hide."

"Good. I despise not knowing the face of my enemy." Spencer smiled and the two moved off.

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The invading force, such as it was, was large enough to cause some damage, akin to pillaging and burning like the hordes of old, but not so large in numbers that it was going to cause too much trouble for those trying to defend the coven, which made Spencer think that Eve had, unfortunately, been right.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible," he said to Stella after they had dispatched three Vampyres and two Lycans quickly, but not before Spencer had been viciously beaten by a surprise attack. Before he could respond, Stella had given an unholy shriek and leapt to his defence, felling three of the assailants leaving the other two for the Lycan.

"You think Eve was right?" she asked.

"I do."

"Then let us..." Suddenly the redhead snarled, her fists curling at her sides, her entire posture tensing.

Spencer didn't waste time with stupid words; asking 'what is is?' would have been redundant, He would not be so bold as to say he knew for certain what had caused the sudden change, but he had a good guess. And sure enough, as he followed Stella's murderous gaze, his eyes lit upon a tall, dark haired Vampyre. Introductions were not forthcoming, nor were they necessary.

"You associate yourself freely with those...animals," Harry said in a derogatory tone.

Spencer just stared at him. "And the Lycans you inducted into your twisted plans are...what? Fashion accessories?"

Harry's lip curled, his attention all on the Lycan. And that was all the distraction Stella needed. She launched herself forwards silently, both hands aiming low on his body, for his gut, but at the last second, he sensed what was about to happen and turned, delivering a crushing blow to her back. Instinctively, Spencer made to step forward to her aid but he saw her hand twitch and he held himself steadfastly still, though with Harry's smug expression glaring in his face, he found it very difficult.

As the Vampyre righted his footing, squaring off to the Lycan, Stella spun with cat-like grace, her right hand slashing deep into Harry's unprotected back, her left hand quickly following. Blood spurted into her face but she didn't care. Without hesitating, she slashed again, ducking as Harry finally reacted, spinning quickly with his hands clenched into hard fists. The momentum carried him too far round, as he was expecting to hit something and did not. From what Spencer could see of the Vampyre, he would guess that most of his expectations had fallen short during his life, of himself and others.

And now he could see that Stella really did need no help whatsoever. The rage of battle upon her, she moved faster than Spencer had seen anyone do in a long time, her movements also like a blur. And in Harry's face the Lycan saw the glimmerings of fear and doubt, and surprise. He had underestimated her, only it was far too late to be discovering something as important as that.

Enthralled in complete fury, Harry roared loudly. It was to be his final mistake. With a hiss of pure hatred, Stella grabbed his lower jaw with one hand, the other planted centre in his chest, and as she pushed with that hand, she pulled with the other. Hard. She pulled back far enough to put one hand behind the other and then she drove the gory mandible into the base of his throat.

Harry didn't make any further sounds, he simply crumbled to the ground, blood gushing from his wounds, which Spencer found hard to ignore. But he forced himself to focus, reached out to touch Stella's arm, all the while talking gently to her.

"We should leave here now," he said. "We've done what we set out to do."

Slowly, she nodded. They reached the garage at the same time Mel and Kat did.

"Harry has been taken care of," Stella announced.

"Linda wasn't here," Kat said breathlessly.

"Or if she was, we didn't see her," Mel replied.

"Only one other place she will be, then," Spencer remarked in a grim voice.

Stella stared at him. "The den."

He nodded. "We need a vehicle."

"Don't you mean we need keys for one?" Stella asked with a tight smile, jingling a set in front of him.

Mel snatched them out of her hands. "Thank you."

The young Vampyre's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed and widened once again even further as she guessed what was about to happen. "No!"

"You must stay here. There is no one else. And it is not a decision which can be debated; it is an order. Do it or die," she said tersely.

Stella swallowed, then nodded curtly. "It shall be as you say."

Mel inclined her head in thanks and then turned to the two Lycans. "Let us be off."

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"Do we have a plan?" Kat asked as they sped towards the den.

Mel was understandably preoccupied; while Stella had more than proved herself, she was still young to be left in charge of such a situation, but with the blonde Vampyre accompanying the Lycans, Eve trapped in the den, and Grace Blood only knew where, there was no one else left to trust with such a task.

"Yes," Spencer said, his voice rough. An ugly blue-black bruise was beginning to form on his temple, patches of crimson blood soaking his shirt. The two women weren't in much better shape, and the smell of blood was heavy in the air, making it difficult for them all to concentrate.

"Which is...?"

"They need to be driven into the pit."

Kat stared at the back of Spencer's head. "The pit," she repeated slowly.

"Is something wrong?" Mel asked, shaking herself from her reverie at the younger Lycan's tone of voice.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Kat murmured dryly.

Spencer shot her a dark look through the rear view mirror. "The pit is exactly what it sounds like; a deep hole in the ground with only one of two ways in, and only one way out. It is mirror-lined, and open to the elements, so when the sun rises, its rays are concentrated in that area and anything in there is destroyed."

"Lycans?" Mel asked in surprise.

"We are susceptible to sunlight too," Spencer replied, nodding. "Though obviously not like you are. It's the sheer concentration of the rays that damages us."

"That and a stake in the heart," Kat added.

"Silver stops us from regenerating. After a full day down in the pit, in the sun..."

There was no need for Spencer to finish his sentence; Mel understood completely, and she knew what he was suggesting was mildly horrific. Any creature caught in the pit would not survive. Killing in battle was one thing, but they were discussing cold blooded murder, and while it was the only solution that would firmly establish their strength as undisputed leaders, rather than the rebels, it still left a bitter taste in the Vampyre's mouth.

"You said there were two ways in, but only one way out," she said eventually.

"That's right," Kat replied. "There is a door that leads straight into the bottom of the pit. Only the Elder or his second in command has the key to it, and the lock cannot be broken." She smiled wryly. "Believe me, I know. I've tried."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I always thought it was you."

Mel smiled briefly. "That covers the way in and out, but the second way in...?"

Spencer and Kat looked at each other in the mirror again, both their expressions grim. "The only other way into the pit is to...fall."

"You mean be thrown or pushed," Mel said in a deliberately harsh tone. "Let us not mince words."

"If you are uncomfortable with this...," Spencer started, turning to face her.

"I am a little, yes, but I would much rather us speak plainly to each other. If we are contemplating murder, then let us call it that. Let us not speak about 'falling' when we both know that is not what will happen."

"There is still the problem of Linda," Kat said, interrupting what she thought was a brewing argument.

"She'll be at the den," Spencer replied confidently. "If Boyd wasn't at the Hall, then he will be there. That is her way of thinking and she will refuse to think anything else. Whether it's true or not doesn't matter, it gives us an advantage."

Further idle chitchat was halted by the den looming in front of them, parts of it blazing orange-red against the black sky. The commotion was at least three times as loud as it had been at the Hall, the bulk of the rebel forces obviously concentrated at the Lycan stronghold. The car skidded to a stop on the gravel, small pieces of stone flung high in the air. Still no words were spoken as the trio exited the vehicle; none were needed. Each knew their place in the battle; Kat was to find Stefan, Frankie and Eve, while Spencer and Mel would track Linda. Finding Boyd and Grace was not a high priority, they had all agreed. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they could take care of themselves. Explanations for the absence from both battles could wait until afterwards...if they all survived.

Kat split off to the left, slinking low through the undergrowth. Spencer and Mel ran forwards, dispatching a pair of Lycans who were guarding the doors with ease. "Stick close to me," he said to his Vampyre companion. "I know who we can trust. I don't want you killing the wrong Lycans."

Mel grinned. "Neither do I."

The driveway had been relatively clear of bodies, as was the entrance hall to the den. "Where is everyone?" Spencer murmured to himself.

As if in answer to his question, the doors that lead to the dining room, and beyond that the kitchen and store, burst open, blood and bodies, live and dead, spilling into the hall. More than thirty creatures suddenly appearing gave the Lycan and Vampyre pair cause to pause, but not for long. A quick assessment to Spencer's keen eyes showed who were the enemy, and without further ado, he waded into the battle, Mel close at his heels.

"Stefan!" the dark-skinned Lycan roared over the noise of the fight.

"Spence!" The Lycan fought his way to his companion's side. "What in Blood's name is going on?"

"The party got out of hand, obviously," Mel remarked sarcastically.

Stefan glared and bared his teeth, but forced himself to say nothing. "We had no choice but to start defending ourselves. With you and Boyd both gone, I had to take charge."

Spencer nodded in understanding. "You haven't seen Boyd?"

Stefan shook his head, then stared. "You know where he is, though, don't you?"

The silence that followed was all the answer he needed. "There is another Vampyre here who is on our side. She should be with Frankie."

"I haven't seen her," Stefan said, then glanced at Mel again. "We're working with them now?"

"Some of them." Spencer clapped his hand on the other Lycan's shoulder, pulling him out of the way of the fight for a moment. "We need to drive them to the pit," he whispered into Stefan's ear. "Make sure, if possible, all Lycans are staked if they're not too badly injured."

"I could just make sure they are all severely injured," Stefan replied with a feral grin.

"Fine, fine. Just herd them in that direction, but not obviously. And while I need not say it, try to save as many of our people – and any Vampyres who turn up on our side – but do not fret if some are lost. If we are to save our people, both our peoples, then some must be sacrificed in order for all to be saved."

Stefan nodded once. "I understand."

"I want Linda alive, though, if you find her. If possible."

"Why?"

"Her reckoning is not for us to deliver," the dark-skinned replied. "Now to work!"

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

As the sky began to turn dusky, paler blue on the horizon, Spencer took a moment to collect him. He was breathing heavily, his arms tired with the exertion of constantly fighting, his head pounding from the beatings he had taken, and his hands slick with blood. He was hyper aware of Mel by his side, far too aware of everything about her, but he made himself concentrate on the task in hand. They were winning. He wasn't sure how, but they seemed to be victorious, at least for the moment. The brief glance of the two Elders some time ago had spurred him to fight longer and harder, but still questions burned in his mind, and now the tide of battle was turning, waning, he wanted answers to those questions.

"They're being driven into the pit," Mel told him, a weary note of triumph in her voice.

Spencer nodded. "Good. The Vampyres won't last two seconds in there, and the Lycans will find it difficult too, once the sun comes up. If any survive, they'll be so weakened that we can finish them off with ease tomorrow night."

"How do you plan to stop them escaping during the day?" Mel asked. The Lycan's reply was a silent, feral grin.

There was a sudden loud commotion and both Lycan and Vampyre turned to see what fresh hell had just rolled into the vicinity. Linda, looking broken and battered but not defeated, was fighting with two Vampyres and a Lycan, and winning. Her eyes were completely crazed, no shred of sanity left in her expression at all. She was fighting tooth and nail, fighting for her very life. It was unclear how much she was aware of; did she know Harry was dead? And Jackie as well? Did she know what fate her co-conspirators had suffered? And if she did, did she even care?

"Boyd!" she screamed as she ripped the throat out of one of the Vampyres, blood spurting rhythmically from the severed artery as his body slumped to the ground jerking.

Mel looked at Spencer, and he half expected to see panic on her face. But her expression was calm, her eyes focussed. "Where is he?" she asked sharply.

Spencer cast his eyes around, aware of the desperation seeping into his own visage. "I don't know! I can't see either of them!"

Linda appeared to have heard them. With lightning quick savagery, she plunged her clawed hand into the chest of the second Vampyre, pulling her heart out with a sharp movement, while ripping the stomach of the Lycan over with her other hand.

"That *bitch*!" she roared. "Boyd is mine, *mine*! And no filthy, pale-skinned and thin bloodied wench is going to take him from me!"

Later, after the heat of battle had subsided, neither Mel nor Spencer would be able to say exactly what spurred them both into new heights of fury, whether they was reacting on the slur against their own Elder or the Elder of the other race. But both agreed it didn't matter. As Linda propelled herself forwards, Spencer moved quickly to block her path. His weary, heavy limbs were suddenly pumping with adrenaline, his muscles growing and straining as he felt the change start to grip him. But then there was a sharp focus on his senses, and somehow he managed to keep a hold of the rage while caging the beast. In that instant, he understood what Boyd, and Thomas, had been trying to teach him and the other Lycans, understood the importance of control, and that new-found knowledge gave him extra strength.

Mel, unknowingly taking her cue from Spencer, jumped high over a pile of rubble, her fingers stretching to their limits to try and grab a stake from the shelf. She was aware of Linda and Spencer clashing, all too aware of the smell of blood in the air, and she refused to turn her head in worry, concerned Spencer wouldn't be able to hold his own. He would. He had to. They could not allow Linda to defeat them. They *would* not. Together, they could overcome her. Together... Mel's instantaneous revelation was the need for the Vampyres and the Lycans to work and live in relative harmony with each other; in a heartbeat, she saw the demise of both races through their constant warfare. And she vowed not to allow that to happen.

Coiling her body like a spring, Mel turned as she extended her arm, her eyes automatically locking with Spencer's. No words were needed; he understood. As her arm came to its maximum reach, she flung the stake like a javelin, not aiming for Linda, but Spencer's hand. And deftly he caught it, pausing just long enough in the fight to do so. And Linda remained unawares, so caught up in her rage that she was.

But when Spencer brought his arm around, the lines of his muscles far too definite against the tattered fabric of his shirt, she knew. When he plunged the stake into her chest, settling his other hand over the end to push it in slowly, she knew. Knew that she had failed. Knew that death was about to claim her. And when Spencer straightened his arms, effectively forcing her backwards into the pit, and she looked down into her doom, Linda knew what hope felt like.

Spencer stepped forwards quickly, wanting to see her hit the bottom to know she was truly out of their lives. And as her insane laughter floated back up to him, he wondered what she had found amusing. And then he saw.

Mel was coming towards him quickly, trying to quell the overwhelming urge to touch him, to reassure herself he was alright. She saw the grim expression of satisfaction turn briefly to confusion before settling into abject horror, the colour fading completely from his face.

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

Before he replied, Spencer grabbed her quickly by the arms, propelling them both backwards onto the floor, out of the way of the sun's harmful first rays. And then, as they sat in the shadows, he could only stare forwards unseeingly.

"What is it?" Mel repeated, icy cold fear gripping her heart.

"Boyd and Grace are down in the pit."

TBC


	24. Twenty Fourth Revelation

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

There is a saying, a very old saying, that for some people, at some times, in some situations, the very seconds seem to freeze. Time itself continues at such a slow pace that it seems as it if the world is simply holding its breath for an eternity and nothing dared move while it did so. Night seemed to take forever to fall, the brightness of day an affront to most whose eyes it reached. The fading screams that accompanied the day time echoed in the ears of all who heard them, reverberating again and again, even in the silence.

Finally darkness fell over the pit and the Lycan den, and over London itself. And, Mel feared, over the Lycan she found herself being propped up by. Actually, it was unclear who was supporting whom, but in the end, it didn't matter. It had been the longest day either of them could ever remember, with both of them sleeping sporadically and fitfully. But now both were awake, Spencer staring sightlessly ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his cheek looked fit for bursting out from under the skin. And Mel feared that the darkness of the realisation of what had happened the previous night had taken a hold of his soul, just as she knew her own state of mind was far from safe. Grace had been a great many things to the young Vampyre, and 'friend' was simply one of them, and the simplest of them. And now...

Before she had fallen asleep after day had broken, Mel had heard Spencer explaining to another Lycan, Stefan , that it was up to him to collect the stragglers, if there were any, and to throw them in the pit stuck with as many spikes as could be spared. Stefan had simply raised an eyebrow in reply, but nodded in understanding of his orders. And once or twice when she opened her eyes during the day, Mel was greeted with the gruesome sight of a bloodied and mangled body, still twitching and fighting for its life, spikes of gleaming silver protruding from the torso, being manhandled closer to the edge of the pit. And then, when near enough, the Lycans holding the usurper would simply toss them in, like casting a fishing net into a calm sea. It was ironic, but Mel felt that the Vampyres captured had an easier fate; though they too were tossed into the pit, at least they disintegrated before reaching the bottom. A quick death, too quick, perhaps, unlike the Lycans. She had shuddered to think of the raw carnage that would await them come nightfall.

And despite the welcome darkness, neither of them moved, both waiting for a miracle they knew couldn't possibly happen. And yet they waited, letting precious slow seconds slip by, until Stefan found them, his face drawn and haggard. His clothes were fresh, his wounds had been washed and bandaged, and his skin was clean, but the smell of blood still followed him, hanging around his body like a shroud.

"There are just a few more...stragglers," he told Spencer in a quiet voice, weariness lacing every syllable. "We're rounding them up now. They tried to run, we had to chase them."

When it became clear that Spencer wasn't going to answer, Mel nodded to the other Lycan. "Thank you," she said, her voice low and hoarse, and strange-sounding to her own ears, like it was a voice belonging to someone else.

"There is something I need to know." It was a statement and a question rolled into one.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to tell you," she replied.

Stefan glanced at Spencer again. "I think you're the only one who can."

"First I need to know a few things. Your colleague, Frankie, she was with one of mine, a dark-haired Vampyre named Eve..."

"Safe, both of them. Frankie is resting after over-exerting herself." Stefan smiled wryly. "She always was stubborn. Eve took her to her room and watched over her until daylight. I made sure Eve was safe from the sun. Kat received some severe injuries as well and is being tended to by Jess, but I'm told she will be fine. I've also just received word from the Vampyre Hall from Stella." Mel nodded in recognition of the name. "Grace still hasn't shown up, but everything else is secure there."

"She isn't likely to."

It took both Lycan and Vampyre a moment to understand who had spoken. Stefan stared in deep concern at Spencer, while Mel tightened her grip on his arm and around his shoulders. "We should do this with the others," the blonde Vampyre said quietly. "I don't want to have to repeat myself too many times."

But Spencer shook his head. "Boyd...and Grace were... They left the Hall... We lost them... We found them again...down there." He pointed shakily in the direction of the pit.

Stefan followed his fellow Lycan's arm, but refused to believe exactly where he was indicating. But in the silence that followed, he had no choice but to swallow the information. "Down in the pit," he stated, his voice dead-sounding.

Mel nodded. "Spence noticed after he threw Linda down there."

"At least that bitch is dead," he snarled. "But...all I could see down in the pit just now was...carnage."

"To be expected," Spencer replied. "But we are going to have to get down in there at some point."

"Down where?"

Everyone turned to see Eve and Kat supporting Frankie. "You're supposed to be resting," Spencer and Stefan chastised their fellow Lycans at the same time.

"And you're supposed to be making her," Mel pointed out.

Eve, Kat and Frankie looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Do you want to try arguing with her?" the pale Vampyre asked, arching an eyebrow. "With either of them?"

"The fighting is over, we're not a cripples," Frankie said firmly.

Kat nodded in agreement. "Now, where do we have to go?"

The two men stared at the floor. "The pit," Mel replied after swallowing deeply. "Boyd and Grace were down there...before the sun came up. They never left."

*"What?"* Lycan and Vampyre exclaimed in unison.

"What were they *thinking*?" Kat added, shaking her head in total disbelief.

"Ask them," Spencer murmured in a shaky voice.

Frankie looked at the dark-skinned Lycan as if he had lost his mind. "What?"

But Mel also looked shocked, as did Stefan. Slowly, Kat and Eve helped to manoeuvre Frankie around to see what the others were staring at, whilst trying to make sense of Spencer's somewhat odd statement.

Which turned out to be not so odd at all, for stood before them, looking bone-weary but otherwise relatively unscathed, were Boyd and Grace.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Remind me again, why are we trekking all the way back to the Hall for this?" Kat asked, her tone bordering on disrespectful and most definitely sarcastic, but no one bothered to pull her up about it as they were all considering the same thing.

Grace sighed. "We need to speak with Ralf. There are now some questions I in particular would like the answer to."

"Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?" the young Lycan continued grumbling. "Some of us have been..."

Boyd twisted in his seat to fix her with a deadly glare. "Yes?"

Kat had to good grace to blush and sink down a little. "Nothing."

"Exactly." The Elder turned back and continued staring silently out of the window.

"You did promise us answers, Boyd," Spencer said quietly, his voice betraying nothing of what he was thinking or feeling. "And our patience is not infinite; we've learnt that from you."

The Lycan Elder tried not to smirk. "If it will keep you all quiet for the journey, I suppose I can tell you a story..."

*Somehow Boyd wasn't surprised when Grace led him into her office. It was just as he imagined it would be; filled with odd bits and pieces that were the very definition of eclectic, all different, unrelated, but somehow very Grace.

"You know what the solution is, don't you," she stated.

Boyd nodded slowly. "I do. You and I are the targets, maybe we have been all along. And the only way for this madness to end is for us to die."

"Or seem to."

He smiled. "If you can think of a different way, I'm all ears."

"You would look funny if you were," Grace murmured in reply. Then louder, she said, "The most dangerous place for both our races is your...pit, is that right?"

"An healthy Lycan would find it difficult to survive in there, let alone an injured one," he replied.

"So if we are there, the rebels will be forced to enter the pit in order to get to us. If we can incapacitate most of them, keeping them there until daylight..."

"...Half the battle at least would be done." Boyd sighed suddenly, pushing his hand roughly through his hair, and he began to pace. "I don't like this at all. It just feels like we are running away."

"I know, and believe it or not, I feel the same way. But it's the only way I can think of that would maybe minimise losses for us, and that would lure Harry, Jackie and Linda into a position where we could deal with them."*

Boyd paused and sent another set of cold glares around the vehicle. "Of course, it didn't work out like that, seeing as the perpetrators of this stupid war were killed by you lot."

Mel shrugged. "It just goes to show how capable we are of handling things without you. After all, we had no idea where you both had gone, so we improvised."

"True, but that was our plan," Grace said with a smile.

"Sacrificing yourself for the greater good? How noble," Frankie murmured, yet there was no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"How many were down in the pit, then?" Eve asked curiously. "As I know how many bodies we had to clear up and fight our way through."

Boyd's expression was unbelievably grim. "Too damn many. It seems more had joined the other side than we had realised."

"And now...how did you survive?" Spencer's tone was intent, his expression the same.

"From the bodies you kept throwing down or from the sunlight?" Grace asked dryly.

Boyd smirked. "The first explanation would be I used the key to the door down there to get us to safety."

The dark-skinned Lycan smirked back and drew an item from his shirt pocket. "You mean this?" he asked, waving the key about. "And even hiding under the bodies would not have protected you for the entire day. Yet when we saw you, neither of you had any burn damage on you. Fight damage, yes, but nothing more. And you, Boyd, with a stake in your side!"

The silver stake had only been small, noticeable only when they were all inspected by Jess, who bandaged and treated their wounds with more swearing than any of the Lycans had ever heard her use. She had many things to say about the stupidity of fighting, and of certain individuals who just happened to be in the room, and was rough with them to show just how much she disapproved of it all.

Once Jess had deemed them fit enough – none were going to drop dead any time soon, though according to her, that was a great shame – they all indulged in a shower and a change of clothes, the Vampyres amused as they perused the wardrobes of their Lycan counterparts. Quiet admissions were made about the better living standards in the den than the Hall, and small giggles were had over fashion. And then they all gathered for the big reveal...only to be told it had to take place at the Hall. And while the Lycans were willing to compromise, they felt this was pushing things much too far.

A heavy silence had descended within the vehicle, which Spencer broke after a time. "So. How did you survive?"

Boyd and Grace glanced at each other, but rather than seeming as though they were communicating silently, the other occupants of the car were under the impression the Elders were both thinking the same thing they were.

"That's why we're going to the Hall," Grace replied eventually. "To ask Ralf. Because neither Boyd nor myself have any clue whatsoever, and Ralf is the only other living being who could possibly have the answers."

"You're assuming he has survived," Frankie pointed out respectfully.

Boyd growled. "He had better have."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I am sure Stella would have sent word if he hadn't."

"We're about to find out," Kat stated as they pulled up at the Hall.

Stella was waiting for them at the entrance, her head held high in pride. Outwardly she looked like those exiting the car, Vampyres and Lycans alike; clean, bandaged, and fresh. Ready to take on the world. Only she could clearly see in all their expressions that they were as tired and bone-weary as she. Kat climbed out of the vehicle first, grimacing slightly at the moment. She then helped Frankie out, whose posture and walk was as stiff as a board. Eve was more lithe on her exit, and the pale Vampyre went straight over to Stella, standing close by her side. Spencer and Mel also seemed to be joined by an invisible force, literally leaning on each other as they stared at the Hall. Last came Boyd and Grace, the Lycan helping the Vampyre and keeping a tight grip on her hand afterwards.

"I see you found them," Stella remarked mildly, though sarcasm coloured her words.

Eve nodded. "They were hiding in the Lycan pit."

Stella's eyes widened almost comically and then she began to splutter. Spencer smiled. "We said something very similar when we found out."

"Is Ralf...available?" Grace asked, almost tentatively.

The red-headed Vampyre struggled to contain herself and eventually shrugged. "I have not seen him."

Cold gripped the new Vampyre Elder. "You have not seen him?" she repeated in an icy tone. "I left you in charge..."

"I was caring for our wounded," Stella replied defensively. "I was putting out fires and making sure no injured Vampyres were in a place where the sun's rays could touch them. I was then asleep for the entire day, and when I awoke, I had to make sure everyone was fed and watering, and to...remove those who had died during the day."

Grace was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Stella."

"Is there any chance you can make up later?" Boyd asked impatiently.

The Vampyre Elder raised an eyebrow at him, a small gesture that spoke volumes, but instead of saying anything in reply, she simply tugged on his hand and led him into the Hall. It felt strange using the front door, but not an entirely unwelcome sensation. The unnatural quiet inside, however, was another matter entirely and it set the Lycans on edge. Grace led them upstairs but instead of going to the room they had frequented before, they went further into the Hall, stopping outside a room at the end of the corridor.

Grace nodded and waited, but there was no answer. She knocked again, waited again, same response. After the third time, Spencer remarked quietly, "Perhaps he isn't there?"

But she shook her head. "He's in here."

Her voice was subdued, which Boyd picked up on instantly. He let go of her hand and slowly opened the door, aware that Spencer and Kat had moved to automatically flank him, Frankie covering his back. The room inside was cast in darkness and the smell of burnt out candles filled the air. As did the smell of death.

"I hope he wrote everything down," Boyd said, his deep baritone rumbling around the empty room.

He heard Grace take a deep breath before he pushed past her. "He would have done," she replied, knowing full well what he was talking about.

Everyone else hung back, partly out of respect but partly because the Lycan Elder was filling the doorway with his physical presence, his arms folded across his broad chest. Inside, Grace walked slowly up to the desk, her eyes never leaving Ralf, who sat in his chair looking peaceful, as though he was sleeping. In front of him was a single long sheet of paper covered in writing that could only be described as spider scrawl. Sighing, the Vampyre Elder lifted it gently between two fingers, the other hand unconsciously coming to rest on Ralf's shoulder.

"Mel," she called softly, and within seconds, the blonde Vampyre was by her side. "Please cover him. We will deal with his death properly afterwards."

Mel nodded and took a throw from the couch, reverently covering the former Vampyre Elder's still form before retreating back with the others. Grace lingered for a few moments, her fingers grazing Ralf's covered cheek, before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind her. Without needing to be told, the others followed her into what had become their meeting room, and waited patiently for her to speak up. When she did, her eyes were focussed solely on the piece of paper she held in front of her.

*Dear Grace, and Boyd,  
I  
know I promised you answers but this is the only way I can deliver them to you. It may be the coward's way out, but I am not prepared to wait to die. I am tired and still in anguish over Thomas' death. I have been parted from him for far too long, not just since his death, but due to our separation from the last war. I would say imagine being parted from Boyd, Grace, for a long period of time and then you would know how I feel. But the problem with that is...you already have been. This is the explanation you have been waiting for, the answer to the dreams you have been suffering. Whether you share it with the others or not is entirely up to you.*

Grace paused and looked at Boyd, who nodded slowly.

*The previous war, the one that drove Thomas and myself apart rose from a disagreement between us. And the disagreement was over you two – you, Grace, and Boyd. Elders are not chosen after they have been turned; we are drawn to our replacements like moths to flames, or the same way we and the Lycans are drawn to fresh blood. Rarely are we wrong about these things. And as the passing of the Blacklight power depends on consummation of a physical relationship, we always choose two complete strangers; we are always drawn to people who have never met.

Yet there is a a legend, known only to us Elders, covering the possibility of an involved couple being turned. The myth goes, as these things usually do, that their existing love would be a bond that would strengthen the Blacklight power and make them almost invincible. There is also the possibility that they could conceive, something that has never been heard of in either of our races, and certainly not between the races. I have never fully understood how it all works and if Thomas did, he never told me. We never put much faith in it, however; it was, after all, just a legend.

Until we found you and Boyd.

You were young at the time, and very much in love. Thomas and I followed you whenever we could, though I was restricted to night time activities. But Thomas told me about how the sunlight would shine golden on your hair, Grace, and how vibrant and full of life you were. And Boyd...Thomas never saw him smile so much as when he was with you.

There were no conventions to help us deal with the situation. I knew you, Grace, were destined to replace me, just as Thomas knew Boyd was to be the next Elder. But you were already involved with each other, and neither of us knew how to deal with that. We waited for an inexorable amount of time, passing opportunity upon opportunity to turn you. If either of you died before we had that chance, an entire generation would suffer because we would have been forced to rule for longer than we were meant to. As fate would have it, that happened anyway. But I digress.

One night you and Boyd met by a river. I was there, as was Thomas, although neither of us was aware of the other's presence. Not at first. We had fallen out a few days before, once again debating what to do about you both. Thomas wanted to turn Boyd regardless of you, Grace, and that would have forced me to turn you as well. The consequences were something neither of us had thought about; I didn't want to as I didn't agree with Thomas' decision, and I'm sure he just didn't think about it because he didn't care. I know what Boyd will say, that isn't the man he knew, but Thomas mellowed greatly after the incident I'm about to divulge to you.

As things between you and Boyd started to become a little heated, Thomas approached me. We were coldly furious towards each other. I remember accusing him of going behind my back, and he accused me of the same. We argued and while I remember each and every word spoken, I will not share them. They are my burden alone, and I shall carry them to the grave. What I will tell you is the outcome.

Thomas had decided I was right, though he never actually said that. He just claimed he had changed his mind, and then he ordered me to stay away from Grace. Told me that if I went near her again, he would kill me. He walked away the same time as you and Boyd ended your little tryst. I was furious as I watched you approach me, rage colouring my vision, and without truly thinking, I attacked you. But it was messy and you screamed, bringing Boyd running to your aid. Before he reached you, Thomas intercepted him. I honestly do not know who bit whom first. I have thought about it every night for centuries and I still cannot say fully which one of us is to blame. I suppose that made the war much easier to start and to keep going. But at the same time as I bit you, Thomas bit Boyd. My eyes locked with my lover's, your gaze with yours. You both passed out at the same time, but to each other, it looked as though the other was dead. And that is what Thomas and I worked on. I told you Boyd was dead, he told Boyd the same about you. It helped us to break you down and rebuild you with no memories of each other, until we were ready for you to meet.

Afterwards, Thomas and I tried to talk to each other but it was impossible. I was angry at him and blamed him for forcing me into such a position, he blamed me for being stubborn. And through our disagreement, our frustration at each other, the war was born. It seems so stupid now. And as the years turned into decades, which turned into centuries, the war became a living beast, capable of surviving on its own. And that was the first thing Thomas and I agreed on in a very long time; that we needed to bring it to a halt and soon. Of course, we couldn't agree on how, but eventually, I came around to his way of thinking. He chose himself to die because he knew he was to blame for the start of the war; he deliberately goaded me into the action I took. Also he had spent more time grooming Boyd to replace him; simply put, Boyd was ready to be Elder, you, Grace, were not. But now you are. More than ready.

Your memories never fully disappeared. They began to manifest themselves as dreams and nightmares, as feelings of deja vu. When you first saw Boyd, there was a connection you couldn't explain. You trusted him, despite of what he was, what he represented. You felt safe with him. And I can imagine he felt similarly about you. Why those memories became stronger as of late I do not know, though I could take a guess. You were ready for taking over as Elders, so your mind was preparing you for what was to come. And the two of you were so in love that the connection simply could not be broken. That connection gives you more strength than the Blacklight power will, but the two of them together... I imagine you could even survive a day in the Lycan pit. Yes, I know what you are both planning to do. I only hope you do survive to read this.

You are now treading in uncharted territory. There has never been a pair of Elders as closely linked as you two, or such cooperation between the coven and the pack, such openness between the two races. Whatever decisions you both make from here on out, I hope they are the right ones. I pray that you never descend into the madness you grew up in.

There may be more to tell you, but I can hear Thomas calling to me. He's telling me it's time to come home, to go to him, and I have been alone far too long to ignore him. Take care, Grace, and allow Boyd to care for you as well. And sometimes, don't forget to care for him; despite how strong he appears to be, he still needs comfort at at times. Even if he says he doesn't.

Good luck with the future.

Ralf*

A heavy silence hung in the room as every tried to absorb what had been said. "So," Spencer spoke up eventually, "You two are...what, Superman and Superwoman?" All heads turned to look at him disapprovingly; his answer was to just grin. "What? I know we still have some serious things to sort out, and I appreciate you have lost your Elder..." He nodded at the Vampyres. "... But it's over. Finally over. We won the battle, there's no more war, and we have more answers than we could ever want. Instead of looking for more things to go wrong, why don't we celebrate?"

"He's right," Mel agreed, to no one's surprise.

"Celebrations can wait," Grace said firmly. "We have more important things to do first."

"Will you bury Ralf?" Boyd asked.

She smiled sadly. "There is no need. He can stay there until the morning and just before sunrise we will put him outside. He would like that."

"Then what is the important business we have to attend to first?" Frankie asked curiously.

"Eating and sleeping, in that order," Grace replied with a true smile. "Here or the den, I don't mind which. Though if we go to the den..."

"You want to be back before sunrise," Boyd supplied, pulling her to his side, his arm almost painfully tight around her shoulders.

"We could put it to a vote," Mel suggested jokingly.

The two Elders shared a long look. "Actually, that's not a bad idea," Grace replied.

Spencer stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"We might as well start as we mean to go on," Boyd said in earnest.

Eve shook her head. "I need some breakfast to digest this. Den," she suggested. "I liked the look of their kitchen better than ours."

"Den," Stella agreed readily.

One by one, the others gave the same answer and in unison headed for the door, only to be aware of Boyd and Grace lingering. "Aren't you coming with us?" Mel asked mildly.

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Grace asked Boyd.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "This was *your* idea."

"Was not."

"Was too."

Their playful argument echoed down the corridor, the surest sign of things to come, and that some things would never change.

TBC


	25. Twent Fifth Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Elton John's.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

*Some months later...*

"No."

"What?"

"I said no."

"How can you say no?"

"Quite easily. Just like this – no." The word was exaggerated, each letter pronounced oh-so-carefully.

The answer was a loud snarl. "I thought we agreed on compromising. So far, we've done all the giving and you've done all the taking!"

Spencer growled in an exhausted kind of way. "Oh, for the love of all things...will you two give it a rest?" he said, glaring first at Mel, then at Kat.

Mel glared. "She..."

"Kat is right," Boyd said quietly. "Though she still hasn't grasped the terms 'diplomacy' and 'politics'. But in principle..."

"You are being unreasonable," Grace interjected.

Mel folded her arms, her expression turning decidedly sulky. "Perhaps if you contributed more to these meetings instead of making calf-eyes at Boyd..." Suddenly she trailed off, not because of dagger-stares she was receiving from the Elders, but because of a rather pointed glare from Eve.

"Yes, I would stay quiet, if I were you," the pale Vampyre remarked quietly. "The idea of these meetings is to discuss goings on in both the coven and the pack, and the mundane world, and to sort out any incidents which may occur. For the last few months, we have been rather successful, and yet it is true that the Lycans have conceded on almost every point we have asked them. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because they're all so bloody perfect," Mel retorted ungraciously.

Frankie sighed and shook her head, allowing herself a moment to look around the room while Grace entered into a staring down match with the young blonde Vampyre. She still couldn't quite believe that she had been included in this elite little unit, the council of Lycans and Vampyres they had formed, but when Boyd had asked her to be a part of the new world they were shaping, Frankie found she could not refuse him. Just as she realised she didn't have the strength or the will any more to pursue her perceived vengeance against Boyd. He had offered her, and all Lycans, a chance of a different life, of no more warfare and perhaps even a little happiness. She wasn't about to pass that opportunity up. And so, once every two weeks for the last months, she had found herself sitting around a wide, round table with Boyd, Spencer and Kat representing the Lycans, and Grace, Mel, Eve and Stella for the Vampyres. The choice in representatives was non-negotiable, at least for the moment. One of the things they had managed to agree upon was the inclusion of some of the younger ones, in the hopes that they would never again see the likes of the recent madness, where so many from both sides were killed. Another was alternating meeting at the den and the Hall, so that neither race felt as though they were being singled out.

And, as Eve had just pointed out, they had been rather successful in sorting out all manner of minor incidents, and the odd major one too. But for some unknown reason, Boyd insisted on the Lycans acquiescence to almost every point and even Frankie was beginning to wonder why.

"We just do as we're told," Spencer said eventually, breaking the silence.

Mel regarded him coolly, but there was a hint of surprise in her eyes. "You mean you don't know?"

"Not a bloody clue," he replied almost cheerfully. "But it doesn't matter." Then he smiled gently. "We're not the monsters your race thinks us to be."

"I know that," she snapped.

"He said your race, not you," Kat pointed out, then sighed. "Look, if this is such a big thing for you, then we'll do it your way."

"Before we go any further, I just need something clarifying," Stella said from her place opposite Eve.

The seating arrangements had been natural, but could not have been better if they had been planned. A round table was agreed upon so that no one person was in charge, despite both Elders being present for most, if not all, of the meetings. And those with partners, or potential ones, sat opposite each other. It had at least improved the relations of the 'inner circle'...for the most part. Unfortunately, occasions like this still occurred and unfortunately, whenever Stella asked a question, it made the rest of the unit groan and roll their eyes.

But this time it was Boyd who smiled and said, "Go on."

"Why are we arguing about Christmas?"

The council did indeed groan and roll their eyes, but they were also smiling as well. "That is a very good question," Frankie replied.

"I don't see why we can't have it here!" Mel said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"A neutral venue makes far more sense," Kat replied in a frustrated tone.

"No."

The Lycan also threw her hands in the air, then pushed herself aggressively away from the table. "That's it! I give up!" Then she perched on the edge of her seat, palms against the end of the table. "You know the easiest solution would to just cancel the whole thing."

Mel looked positively aghast. "You can't do that!"

"Then compromise." Kat sat back in her chair and folded her arms, her expression and entire posture very Boyd-like.

"Why don't we just take a vote?" Eve suggested as she stubbed her cigarette out. "All those in favour of Kat's idea?" Everyone except Mel raised their hands. "I suppose there isn't much point in saying 'all those against', is there?"

Spencer shook his head. "It's settled then. You will have your celebrations on Christmas Eve, we'll have ours on Christmas Day, and then Christmas Day night, we'll get together in a neutral place to celebrate together." He fixed his gaze on Mel. "See? That wasn't so difficult. Why were you being so stubborn about this?" he asked softly.

The blonde Vampyre held his stare, almost afraid to look anywhere else. "It isn't fair. Grace and Boyd get to spend all hours together, and we...we don't. You can pick and choose when you sleep, we can't. I find the injustice of it all stings at times."

Silently, Spencer rose from his seat and rounded the table, Frankie quietly vacating the seat next to Mel so he could sit down. Taking her hand in his and cupping her cheek, he said, "We're still together. It doesn't matter that we can't spend daytime with each other; we have every night. And when Vampyres are more tolerant of Lycans, I can sleep during the day like you do...even with you."

"Too much information!" Stella declared, putting her hands over her ears.

Grace glanced briefly in the redhead's direction before turning her full attention to Mel. "I never asked for this, so please don't punish us, and yourself, for something none of us had any control over. It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less. Yes, it is unfair, but that's life."

"New Year's Eve is, as the name suggests, an evening function, so you won't be missing anything there," Boyd pointed out. "And as for Christmas, both races get to attend two parties each." He smiled. "Be thankful it has worked out this way, we don't get a rest from the festivities whereas you do."

Frankie glanced at the antique clock on the wall. "Was there anything else? Only..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence and no one needed to ask what she was talking about; only a short amount of night time remained and the Vampyres still needed to return to the Hall.

"There is just the issue of furnishings for the Hall," Kat said, sitting forward once more to join in the conversation.

Boyd nodded. "Grace and I have yet to agree on a plan."

"What is there to agree on?" Stella asked. "The work can be done during the day, while we sleep, and Grace can oversee it as she can stay awake during that time. Simple."

"Why can't the work be done in the evening then the Vampyres can help?" Frankie countered, not out of any maliciousness, simply to make sure that every angle had been thought of before they reached a decision.

"A matter of pride," Eve replied calmly. "If we are forced to admit that we have been living in something akin to a pigsty for all these centuries, the damage could be quite severe."

"It's on a par with admitting that the Lycans are actually quite reasonable creatures...for the most part," Mel added with a sly smile.

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to know why you looked at me when you said that."

The young blonde Vampyre just shrugged, the smile turning into a smirk. Grace tried, rather unsuccessfully, to hide her own smile behind her hand. "I think we should wrap this up," she said. "Whose...?"

"Mine," Frankie replied. It was another thing that had been agreed upon without actually being spoken about. If the meeting was to be held at the den, then the Lycans were responsible for the transportation of the Vampyres to and from the gathering, and vice versa.

The goodbyes were brief, for they saw each other regularly in between meetings, but for some, the sense of parting was strong. Bonds of friendship which had been forged through blood and fighting were stronger than those of simple kinship through race. As Frankie led the Vampyres from the room, Spencer and Kat followed, leaving Boyd and Grace alone.

"Well?" she asked.

"What?" he replied.

Grace smiled and shook her head. It never amazed her how easy they fell into these patterns which felt so familiar, and now they knew why. It explained a great many things, but even now, she still could not believe the luck they had both experienced in finding each other again.

"You think too much," Boyd said with a fond smile.

"Your point is?"

He shook his head. "Come on, let's get out of here."

It was said in a casual, offhand sort of way, but Grace knew instantly that Boyd was up to something. He was scheming, or he had already planned something for her, and curiosity soon got the better of her. "Are you in a rush?"

His answer was surprisingly direct. "I want to watch the sunrise with you."

"We have managed that quite a few times over the last three months, Boyd," Grace told him with a smile.

"I know. But this morning will be different." Rising, he offered her his hand.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

She knew it was somewhat daft of her to be crying, but Grace simply couldn't help it. Even if her mind did not recognise the place, her heart certainly seemed to and it made her soul ache with thought of the years they had lost. True, now they had more years in front of them than they would have done otherwise, but still... Grace could not help but recall the centuries which had rolled by, the pain and anguish both she and Boyd had suffered, and it brought tears of sorrow to her eyes.

A rough thumb pad swiped the drops of water from her cheeks. "I would say 'none of that' but to be perfectly honest, I feel a little the same way," Boyd told her, his deep voice sounding as though it was coming from his feet.

Grace turned, her expression disbelieving. "Really?"

He nodded, unperturbed. "Really. I love you, Grace. I always have. When...when we were 'apart', I knew my heart was aching for something, I just didn't know what. At times I felt my soul would splinter but I smothered it all with anger. Threw myself into my roll in the pack, made myself the best at what I do. But I never forgot you. You came to me in my dreams so many times I thought I was losing my mind."

\An enchanted moment  
And it sees me through  
It's enough for this restless warrior  
Just to be with you/

There were no words to what he had just shared, so Grace cupped his face with both her hands and kissed him fiercely. His arms immediately went around her waist, pulling her to him. The sun crested over the horizon, bathing everything in golden red light, the morning dew on the grass by the river glistening like precious jewels. The same place they had met before they had been turned. Same place, different people, yet somehow still the same. As Boyd moved his attentions to her neck, Grace let all the emotions roll freely over her. She was alive, with the man she loved, in the place that was just theirs, and the sun was shining. Small things to some people, but things that meant the world to her.

And to Boyd. Although his focus was rapidly shifting to more...immediate things, he could still appreciate how they had come full circle, and despite the lives they had lived separately, they had still found and accepted each other with relative ease, if one ignored the time lapse.

And ignore it he did, for he could no longer concentrate on more than one thing at once, and at that moment, Grace was captivating his full attention. Her hands had started to wander with urgency and in response, he quickly divested her of any clothes covering her torso. Not that either of them were in a rush, but the need to feel flesh on flesh was overwhelming. His lips hungrily latched onto a nipple, causing her to arch almost violently towards him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Boyd," she murmured, one hand sliding up to his head, her fingers threading through his hair.

Pulling away, Boyd stripped his shirt off in seconds before moving back to Grace, but then thought better of it. Slowly, deliberately, his removed the rest of his garments, his eyes firmly locked with Grace's, the way her pupils were dilated, her eyes wide, more of a turn on than he realised, or could remember.

"You seem to be overdressed," he told her with a smirk as he stood in all his naked glory.

Grace smiled back and followed his lead, unable to prevent the shiver that traversed the length of her spine as Boyd licked his lips as he followed her moves. Naked as well, she stood staring at him for a moment, all too aware of the slightly absurd picture they portrayed should anyone spot them. But the place was still secluded, hidden, almost unknown, and Grace wondered how it could have remained that way for so long. Wondered what exactly they were thinking of, about to engage in sexual acts in broad daylight...

"You think too much," Boyd whispered right next to her ear, causing her to shiver again.

She hadn't heard him move, hadn't even *seen* him, yet suddenly he was right in front of her, their bodies connecting in all the right places. For a moment they simply clung to each other, each feeling the other's heart beating against their chest. Boyd kissed Grace's hair tenderly, his protectiveness strong all of a sudden, and she tucked her head under his chin. Completely at ease with each other, the moment of peace they had both been searching for had suddenly found them.

Slowly, sensually, Boyd began to run his hands up and down Grace's back and flanks, and she sighed with pleasure, leaning more into him, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her nipples hardening instantly. He groaned and grabbed at her hips, stilling her movements.

"I love you," Grace said, pulling his head down to kiss him again, the urgency she was feeling transferring itself through her lips.

Boyd responded greedily, one hand reaching up to caress her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers, while his other hand slipped between her legs, delighting in the wetness he found her. But Grace wasn't idle, though his ministrations were distracting; she dragged the fingernails of one hand roughly down his back while her other hand grasped his hard shaft and slid down over it.

Both suddenly broke apart panting, and without speaking, Grace lay down on the grass, the stream behind her head, the sun glinting off her sweat-coated body, throwing shadows in some interesting places that Boyd made a mental note of to explore some time. But this was not the time. This was about recapturing some of their youth, some of what they had felt before. This was about reconnecting, and he wasted no time in dropping to his knees, placing his hands either side of her head.

As he nestled himself between her legs, Boyd fought the urge to simply plunge straight into her. It was always the same with Grace, the feeling of coming home so strong he found it hard to ignore. But her fingers on his cheek, the other hand gripping his arm, and the look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. Positioning himself, he slowly and carefully slid into her, hilting himself.

Grace groaned loudly, her back arching, and Boyd bent to capture a nipple. Then she flexed her hips and he was reminded that sometimes, it was better to concentrate on one thing only. Though it took most of his self-control, Boyd pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in again.

"Don't hold back," Grace told him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his backside.

Grinning, Boyd set a faster pace, enjoying the sight of Grace relaxing into him even more, encouraging him with the smallest of gestures. And she was enjoying the sensations he was creating, pushing her body to the edges of what it could handle, and she loved every moment of it. Their climax approached quickly, but it didn't matter. The sense of coming home was strong for her as well.

Boyd suddenly growled low, in the back of his throat, his body stiffening, and Grace instantly followed, her finger nails digging hard into his shoulders, drawing blood. For a moment blackness threatened to take her, and she was only dimly away of Boyd rolling them over, pulling her body on top of his. She knew he was feeling as boneless as she was, and the fact that he didn't want to crush her with his weight struck her as extremely tender. Though it took a great effort, Grace managed to kiss him on the jaw, earning a dazed smile in return.

As they lay there, the sun drying their bodies, both were transported back to the last night they spent together as mortals. The night they were turned. They remembered making love in the same place, remembered the dreams they harboured for their lives, and their life together. And although they knew there was no going back, perhaps there was a way to incorporate the past in to the future, for they knew that anything was possible. They were living proof that.

\And can you feel the love tonight?  
It is where we are  
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
That we got this far/

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> A/N – 'Exponent' means 'person who explains or interprets'. So it's just a different way of saying 'psychologist!'


End file.
